


In the middle - Part 1

by morporkian_hobbit



Series: In the middle [1]
Category: Lupin III
Genre: Autistic Character, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Multi, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Slow Burn, The Boys are oblivious, Trans Character, bi character, fujiko facepalming in the background, fujiko loves her boys but she's tired, how could i forget it's ALWAYS mutual pining, i simplified the ship list but basically it's OT4 except jigen and fujiko aren't together, it's a long-ass fic, multiple jacket colors, note: this fic is gonna be in two parts and some of these tags apply mostly to the second one, so there's gonna be a lot of tropes, sorry these tags are in no particular order, the boys' love language is making food for each other, there WILL be fujigoe because i love them, there won't be any smut here sorry peeps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28567176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morporkian_hobbit/pseuds/morporkian_hobbit
Summary: Letting people into your life is difficult. Accepting the importance they have for you, even more so. And Lupin, Jigen and Goemon all have their reasons to be wary of strangers, and of their own feelings. Some things take time. Too much time, according to Fujiko, who would just like her boys to finally get the hint.
Relationships: Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke/Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko
Series: In the middle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2093106
Comments: 20
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! I'm finally posting this fic I've been working on during NaNoWriMo. I've been wanting to write a long getting-together fic for the Gang for a while, and here it finally is! 
> 
> Please note that this fic will be published in two parts, both of which are linked but written with different structures (hence the separation). This first part serves as a setting, the introduction leading up to the second part, and it will explore the evolution of the relationships between the characters.  
> Also, it is currently being beta'd, so chapter posting may be irregular.
> 
> I'd like to thank a few people who helped me on this:  
> \- J., my amazing beta, for troubleshooting the plot with me, correcting all my mistakes, and being my most enthusiastic reader and the best motivator I could ask for. J, you're the best! (Please bear in mind that English isn't my first language.)  
> \- Aime, my best friend, for answering all my questions about honorific suffixes, Japanese food and ancestor shrines.  
> \- My friend TeniaBuldozer, for her input and advice on all things concerning autism. (I've done as much research as possible and gotten input from autistic friends, if I've still written anything false or offensive about autism PLEASE tell me and I'll correct it).  
> \- And the NaNo writing group, for supporting me, helping me stay motivated and giving me precious advice.
> 
> Disclaimer: do NOT do any of this at home, kids.
> 
> That's all for the author's blathering, please enjoy the fic!

Lupin really couldn’t think of a moment that was better than the time spent in between heists.

Of course, Lupin the Third lived for the thrill. Planning a caper was when his brain was working at the highest of its potential, like a frantic little machine, gears turning and puzzle pieces clicking into place as he devised the best way to steal this or that. Trading sleep for caffeine was a small price to pay for hatching a genius plan. The goal wasn’t the jewels or the bank notes that he stole. It was the process: the recon, the sneaking in, the snatching, the running away from the police, hair in the wind and laughing his heart out. That’s where he got the thrill he lived for.

And yet… However much he called himself an adrenaline junkie (and that was true, he knew he wouldn’t be able to live without it), the times where he felt the happiest were the quiet moments spent with his partners. The post-caper celebrations where the hype slowly faded out into a glass of scotch, a light-hearted conversation, and a fit of laughter. The long nights watching cowboy movies with Jigen instead of sleeping, while Goemon pretended to meditate in a corner. The rare dates he managed to spend with Fujiko without getting stabbed in the back and robbed blind – and those ones, too. Maybe the adrenaline-fueled, action-packed heists were the core of Lupin’s life, but the moments spent with his friends were the end goal of it all.

Judging by the content faces of Jigen and Goemon, walking by his side in the warm evening air, they shared the same feeling.

They were walking through the streets of a small town of the Hida province, the name of which Lupin had already forgotten, between small colourful wooden houses, and green cherry trees. The blossom season was ending, and the cobblestone was covered in wilted white petals. The Gang had just gotten out of an expensive traditional restaurant (chosen by Goemon), and were enjoying the last of the evening, before nightfall drove them back to their hideout. Their last real job had been ages ago, and Lupin’s fingers were itching to snatch some expensive artifact; but for now, that craving was dulled by the calm of the night and the quiet banter his partners were exchanging.

Too quiet, in fact. It was time to wake his friends up a bit.

“LAST ONE TO THE ONSEN HAS TO STEAL ZENIGATA’S UNDERPANTS!” Lupin suddenly shouted, before sprinting down the road. His two partners stopped dead in their tracks, a bit startled by the shout, and shared a half surprised, half exasperated look.

“You’re an idiot,” Jigen muttered before he started running after the thief.

Goemon simply shook his head, and followed suit, quickly passing Jigen, though neither of them was able to catch up with their partner.

The sound of his friends’ footsteps behind him made Lupin seem to grow wings, and he sped down the paved road, making fallen petals flutter in his wake. He turned around to stick his tongue out to them, nearly tripped on his own feet, recovered at the last second and finally reached the door of the establishment they had been planning to spend the end of the evening at. He stopped with a huff, slightly out of breath.

Just a second or two later, Jigen and Goemon came to a halt behind him, right under the hanging sign that advertised the onsen. A few passers-by were staring at them in surprise or distaste. Lupin paid them no mind.

“Shall we?” the samurai asked, but thief was already stepping inside and kicking his shoes off.

Jigen shrugged, and both he and Goemon followed suit, respectfully taking off their shoes and nodding to the hostess who was sitting behind a counter in the lobby. She welcomed them in, and immediately launched into a practiced speech about the few rules of the onsen. The samurai very pointedly stomped on Lupin’s toes when he sighed in obvious weariness. They followed her directions towards the changing room, Goemon still glaring at his friend.

“Come on,” Lupin complained, “I know how onsens work, I don’t need a reminder every time I visit one.”

“You get that look in your eyes when you are planning to do something that is against the rules, Lupin,” Goemon retorted, implacable.

“It’s fiiiine. I was only planning to steal that golden maneki-neko at the entrance, not walk in with shoes on or anything outrageous like that.”

Jigen snorted, which earned him a glare from the samurai as well. He shrugged, not wanting to argue with his friend, and let Lupin talk himself out of this one on his own.

“No hats!” the thief called out to Jigen as they all walked out of the changing room. “You heard the lady!”

The gunman protested when his friend snatched his hat from his head and threw it back with the rest of their belongings like it was a frisbee.

“They are already allowing us in despite your tattoos,” Goemon reminded. “Going in hatless is a small price to pay.”

“At least they didn’t notice your chest scars,” Lupin added with a shrug. “They were too busy admiring that majestic phoenix on your back!”

“I’d rather stay outside than be sent to the other side of the onsen to join Fujiko,” Jigen grumbled, but he left it at that and followed the others to the hot springs. Indeed, it was hard to find onsens that allowed tattooed people, out of fear of the yakuza. Jigen sometimes regretted having gotten his full back inked, back when he was still a young gun for hire trying to look tough and cool. But only sometimes. Lupin liked the rising phoenix and the chrysanthemums inked into his back, and that was reason enough to justify the decision in his adult eyes.

There were only two other clients enjoying the hot springs. They didn’t keep enjoying it for much longer, because Lupin took a run up towards the bath and jumped into it canon-ball style. Goemon’s face distorted into one of pure shock, and it was clear he was holding himself back from yelling at the thief and disturbing the place even more. Jigen tried to stifle a laughter, as he let himself slip (in a more civilised way) into the water, but not enough the keep the samurai from hearing him. The poor man looked like he was running out of murderous glares.

Lupin’s dramatic and quite noticeable entrance had at least had the advantage of driving the two other visitors away into a neighbouring pool. The thieves now had this one to themselves. Jigen could already feel the knots in his muscles melt away as he sank down into the hot bath, letting the water line almost reach up to his nose. Goemon silently swam up to him and settled down a few feet away. He eased himself against one of the smooth rocks, and let out a sigh of contentment. Lupin was still splashing around at the other end of the pool, trying to find a spot where he could stay still without being pushed away by the current of the spring.

“Oi! Keep it down!” Jigen called to him, in that loud whisper that wasn’t as discreet as everyone always thought it was.

The thief quit splashing around, and in a few breaststrokes, he swam up to where his friends were, settling down in a nook facing them. He sighed and smiled, as the heat of the water made a blush creep up on his cheeks.

“I may bash Japan a lot, but I’m not angry to be back,” he declared after a moment. “You don’t find places like this anywhere in Europe.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jigen replied. “Those thermal baths we visited in Nice were pretty great.”

“They do not compare,” Goemon chimed in.

The gunman shrugged. “Of course you’d say that.”

“French people have no respect for hygiene.”

“Hey! I’m _right here_ , you know!” the thief protested.

“Thank you for proving my point, Lupin.”

The young man stuck his tongue out at his friend, before sinking down into the water, pretending to brood. It didn’t last long though, and he came back up with a full smile some ten seconds later (Jigen had been counting under his breath).

“Say, d’you guys remember that job we did in Barcelona?”

“Which one?” Jigen asked. “I remember going there several times.”

“When we butted heads with that Van Mire guy,” the thief insisted.

Jigen slouched down a bit. “Oh. Him. And _her._ Not a fond memory.”

“Aaaw, come on!” Lupin cooed, poking a finger into his friend’s side and making him jolt. “We had fun! They tricked us into fighting each other, and you pretended to shoot me in the heart.”

“Like I said. Not a fond memory.” Jigen stayed silent for a second, then a smile crept on his lips. “Although, the look on her face when she realised that we were still alive was worth more than all the jewels we stole in Spain.”

“All _I_ remember from Barcelona,” Goemon interrupted, “was spending the whole trip hungry because _someone_ had mistakenly told me that there would be Japanese food.”

“You’re just cranky you weren’t in on the fun,” Lupin teased him.

“You’ll get that trick with the lighter someday,” Jigen added, offering the samurai a comforting smile. “It takes a lot of practice, is all.”

“I know that, thank you. I was simply vexed by Lupin’s empty promise of decent food.”

“You could have done what everybody else did, and tried some of the tapas,” Lupin complained.

“You know western food doesn’t agree with me.”

“More like you don’t agree with it,” the thief corrected.

“Yeah, well. We know the gist now,” Jigen interrupted to try and appease everyone’s spirits. “Sensory issues can be a bitch. There’s a reason I always carry soba around wherever we travel, ya know.”

Goemon smiled and nodded at the gunman. That was all the thank that could be expected from him, but Jigen knew what his friend meant.

Minutes passed, and Lupin had moved on to bickering with Jigen instead of with Goemon. That was a welcome respite, even though their banter was a familiar and comforting sound. The samurai leaned back against the rocky ledge of the onsen and observed them from afar.

Jigen and Lupin shared something that Goemon didn’t feel he had with either of them. Even after all this time at Lupin’s side, and his utter loyalty to the thief, he still sometimes felt like an outsider, intruding on his relationship with the gunman. The expression “right hand man” had never seemed so just as when it was used to describe Jigen’s relation with Lupin.

And yet…

Did the thief notice the way his partner looked at him? Did he realise how much devotion and longing there was in those deep black eyes? How Jigen would hang on to every word that came out of Lupin’s mouth, while achingly hoping for his lips to do something else entirely?

The samurai shook his head. No, of course Lupin didn’t notice, busy as he was looking lovingly at Fujiko. No more than Jigen noticed Goemon looking at him.

He closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of his friends, and sighed. Maybe sometimes he felt like an outsider. On most days, though, he simply knew that his bond with Lupin and Jigen was different from the one the two shared; but it wasn’t any less strong and powerful. Goemon would put his life on the line to save either of them, he had done so before, in a heartbeat. And he didn’t doubt that the reverse was true – not anymore.

The ambient sounds of the spring had gradually cleared his mind of everything he had been thinking of during the day. Like when he was meditating, he let his mind follow its train of thought without focus, simply watching it like he was an outside observer. Yet unlike his meditation sessions, he found his thoughts always coming back to one spot in time, one period of his life. He couldn’t quite tell if he enjoyed these memories or not. The feeling of being an intruder was stronger back then, and not without reason. But it was also the start of the best part of his life.

Well. Whether he liked it or not, his first stumbling steps in Lupin’s world were part of who he was. Goemon couldn’t change that, and he wouldn’t want to.

///

Dusk was called the hour of thieves, and not without reason. The night had just fallen, and three shadows had slipped inside the museum – more of a giant safe than a real exhibition centre, really. And the more secure the safe, the happier the thief. Or at least, one of the thieves. Creeping in through a window and walking around without tripping any wires was child’s play for Lupin, and Jigen had long since learned to avoid most of them. But to Goemon, this was a new challenge.

While his training in ninjutsu had made him adept at discretion and espionage techniques, his skills mostly relied on staying out of view of people, and technology factored very little into it. That was not to say that he was a complete lame duck when it came to breaking into a building equipped with digital security. The samurai prided himself on his stealth and his reflexes, and most importantly on his adaptability to any new challenge. But the ease with which his two companions were carrying out their mission, compared to his own struggles to keep up, was frustrating. No matter. This was what Goemon had signed up for when he had joined Lupin’s Gang: walking into unknown territory, and learning from watching his new master. For the time being, that involved carefully noting the exact spot where Lupin stepped, leapt or crept, and imitating his movements to the millimetre. A complex exercise, but not a new one – learning martial arts relied heavily on watching and copying, and this was no different from reproducing a kata from his sensei’s example.

Regardless, Goemon felt relieved when Lupin finally stopped in front of a metal door, after what seemed like hours of senseless turns in a series of labyrinthic corridors. Lupin straightened up and stretched his gangly limbs, while Jigen turned around to glance behind him at Goemon. The samurai showed no reaction beyond simply stopping and waiting for their leader’s instructions. The gunman turned back towards Lupin.

“So far, so good!” the thief exclaimed as he turned to face his acolytes. “The jewels are on the other side of this door. Well, this door, a few more corridors, a room full of laser wires, a four-centimetres thick glass case, and an electrified grid surrounding it. A piece of cake!”

“And how are you planning to get past all of that?” Jigen asked, clearly not expecting a straight answer.

“Trade secret!” his partner retorted, giving him a mischievous wink.

Lupin’s modus operandi was something that baffled Goemon. The point of having a team to do heists with was to have people that the master thief could rely on. So why did he always keep them in the dark until the last moment? What use was there to having partners who had no idea what was going on? He could have almost believed that the thief improvised all of his plans on the fly, if it weren’t for the way everything always clicked into place before the end. Surely improvisation couldn’t lead to so many successes.

Still, this wasn’t the time to question Lupin’s ways. For now, Goemon would simply content himself with following orders, until he figured out what could possibly be going on in Lupin’s head.

He was about to ask for instructions, but Jigen outpaced him.

“I meant, what do you need us to do?” the gunman grunted, clearly used to asking this question all the damn time.

Lupin absentmindedly knocked on the metal door, which made a dull _thump_. The door was much too thick to resonate.

“There’s probably a guard or two in the exhibition room,” he replied, “or if there aren’t, they’ll be there soon. Jigen, I’m going to need you with me, in case there’s a shoot-out.”

The gunman nodded without a word, and the thief went on with his instructions.

“Goemon, there’s a control room that way.” There, Lupin pointed to a corridor branching off from where they were standing. “Cutting the wires of the main electricity system should deactivate most of the security, and buy us… oh, about five minutes.”

Goemon opened his mouth to ask a question, but Lupin seemed to have read his mind before he could even talk.

“It’s the wires inside the locked casing. That’s why I need you for that, you’re going to have to cut it open. Then stay there and keep an eye open for any security guards.”

“I can do that,” Goemon nodded. He reflexively tightened his grip on the Zantetsuken. He wasn’t fond of using the legendary blade for such trivial things; but he had agreed to this when he had joined Lupin, and he must put his pride aside if he hoped to learn anything from the master thief.

“Perfect!” Lupin exclaimed and clapped his hands. “We’re all set, then!”

“Hold on,” Jigen called out as Lupin was about to get to work on the door. “I should go with Goemon-san instead.”

The samurai raised an eyebrow, and Lupin cocked his head to the side in echo to his surprise.

“Huh? Why?”

“When the main power source goes out and the system switches to the secondary one, security is going to head for the control room first,” the gunman argued.

“True. But I’m sure Goemon can deal with them on his own.”

Jigen glanced at the samurai, or so Goemon assumed – but he couldn’t be sure with the hat hiding the gunman’s eyes. In any case, Jigen’s general attitude was pretty clear on the fact that he didn’t share Lupin’s confidence.

“There’s gonna be a lot of them,” the gunman insisted. “Better have two men to cover your back than one.”

Lupin shot a glance at Goemon, then shrugged.

“You’re right. But as soon as you’re rid of the guards, you come back here.”

Goemon gave him a curt nod. “Understood, Lupin-dono.”

“Good luck, pal,” Jigen wished him before he and Goemon walked away into the darkened corridor.

The samurai waited for his companion to take the lead, but Jigen showed no sign of doing so. The security in this area of the building was less tight than some of the corridors they had encountered – no laser wires, simply CCTV, so Goemon resolved to lead the way. Lupin had showed them a map of the building before the heist, and he had made a point of memorising it down to the very last detail, so he knew where he was going. He simply had to make sure to duck out of view of the cameras and to check for any sign of wires at the base of the wall. He had the nagging feeling that he was walking way too slow, but he’d rather be safe than sorry, especially with Jigen watching him like a hawk. The gunman didn’t make any remarks, though, nor did he give Goemon any pointers on how to avoid traps more efficiently, so the samurai decided that he was doing just fine.

“Do you know what that system’s casing will look like?” he asked as casually as he could. “I assume the control room will be full of buttons, wires and other devices.”

Jigen shrugged and kept walking.

“Usually it’s some sort of metal door, an electric box with a dial on it. They lock it so that the staff doesn’t mess with it.”

“That makes sense. Would it not be better for us to pick the lock open, though? There would be less risk of tripping an alarm.”

“Our resident lockpick is busy elsewhere,” Jigen pointed in the vague direction where they had left the master thief, “so the sword will have to do. Usually I shoot those fuckers open, but Lupin says your way is cleaner.”

Goemon stopped, as they reached a door labelled “control room” by a small metal plaque. He gave the knob an experimental twist, but it was – unsurprisingly – locked. Well, like Jigen had said: the sword would have to do.

The samurai took a step back from the door. The blade was out of its sheath and back in in a matter of seconds, and at first it looked like nothing had happened; until Goemon nonchalantly pushed on the knob with one finger, making it fall out of the door and onto the floor on the other side, with a loud metal clank. He then unceremoniously kicked the door open, before turning to Jigen. The gunman was leaning against the wall, hat pulled low over his eyes, and if he hadn’t known better, Goemon might have thought that he had ignored all of the action. But it would have been uncharacteristic of Jigen to let the newbie mess around with his blade without at least keeping an eye on him. Goemon couldn’t hold it against him to be careful.

“After you,” Jigen offered with an exaggerated gesture of chivalry.

The samurai held back a scoff and stepped inside, with Jigen on his heels. He fumbled around for a few seconds before locating a switch, and light suddenly flooded the room. The walls and island units were covered with control panels, flickering like a Christmas tree covered in beeping and blinking diodes, buttons, dials, levers and the likes. It was almost enough to give Goemon a headache.

He quickly scanned the room for anything that looked like what Jigen had described. He spotted the dull metal casing screwed to the wall in a matter of seconds – it was easy to recognize, placed somewhere quickly accessible, and with a big “Warning: electricity” logo on it. Not to mention the heavy circular padlock dial smack dab in the centre of the panel.

“Bingo,” Jigen muttered behind him, noticing the box.

Goemon didn’t waste time, and made his way through the room, ignoring the rest of the buttons. They didn’t matter in the slightest, they weren’t security systems he had to avoid or devices he had to defuse. Once again, his blade was in and out in seconds. A thin cut appeared on the metal panel, then another, and in an instant, the box fell to pieces clattering on the floor. It revealed a nest of multicoloured wires and plugs that looked like a litter of kittens had played with it for a few hours.

Jigen let out an admirative whistle, and Goemon didn’t know if it was for his swordsman’s skills or for the impressive mess of wires.

“Any idea which one of those you’re supposed to slash?” the gunman asked.

Ah. So it was for the wires.

Goemon remained silent as the seconds ticked by, his eyes trained on the open box, following the lines and arcs formed by the myriad of interconnected threads. He stayed still and unmoving long enough that Jigen, slightly confused (or worried?) took a step towards him and leaned to the side to see the samurai’s face. Goemon ignored him, momentarily erasing him from the mental image of his surroundings, every bit of his attention turned towards the wires. There was a rhyme and reason to the connections, he just had to figure out…

“You okay?” the gunman enquired, just as the samurai zeroed in on the crucial wire.

Goemon raised an arm towards the electric box.

“This one,” he replied, pointing to a shiny blue thread that poked out of the mass to go plug itself in a corner of the box.

Jigen frowned (probably, give or take the brim of his hat).

“How do you know that?”

Goemon hesitated for a second. How could he explain the complexity of the system binding these wires together, of the meaning of the patterns of red, blue and green criss-crossing the metal panel, of the energy flowing through them and permeating the surroundings and his mind if he focused long enough?

“It looks just like the one I cut in that bank heist last month,” he finally declared, letting his arm fall back down onto the handle of his sword.

The gunman stared at him for a few seconds, presumably trying to detect any trace of bullshit in the samurai’s stone-smooth expression. Finding none, he took a step back and nodded.

“Okay. Do your thing, I guess.”

It didn’t go unnoticed by Goemon that Jigen had slightly shifted his position so that his gun was easily within reach. ~~~~

Goemon only realised he was holding his breath when, two seconds after he slashed the wire in two, the alarm didn’t go off. He let out a quiet sigh of relief, all the while admonishing himself for his uncharacteristic nervousness. Even without turning around, he could feel Jigen relaxing as well, and the tension of the room settling down a bit. They weren’t out of danger yet, far from it. The room was now plunged in pitch darkness, save for the diodes, which must run on independent batteries. If Lupin had been right, it would stay this way for five minutes, allowing the master thief to snatch the diamond necklace he had his sights on, and hopefully make his escape before the power went back on and security inevitably showed up. Then, Jigen and Goemon would have to make their way out as well, and join up with him where their getaway car – Lupin’s unfortunately conspicuous yellow Mercedes – was parked. That was, if the police didn’t force them to take another route, in which case they’d have to go their separate ways, and meet each other at the hideout, after having made sure they weren’t followed. Goemon was not looking forward to such an event, but should it happen, he was ready and knew what to do to keep the others safe.

He and Jigen remained still as statues for what seemed like ages – with only the blinking LEDs to pierce the darkness, it was hard to estimate the passage of time. Goemon felt as tense as a bowstring, but he forced himself to relax. While being able to react at the millisecond was an asset, unnecessary anxiousness wasn’t going to lead him anywhere good. He felt like a fish out of water here, but the unfamiliarity of the situation wasn’t enough to make him lose his skills and professionalism. From what little he could see in the darkened room, Jigen was casually leaning against the wall, hat lowered over his eyes, like always when he had to wait for something. However, Goemon knew from experience that his colleague was not any less alert and ready for action than he himself was. The samurai could respect that. Making yourself seem relaxed and unaware of your surroundings, while still ready to spring into action at a second’s notice, was a skill that few warriors had truly mastered, and Goemon could recognize the gunman’s competence.

Light suddenly flooded the room. Goemon’s prodigious reflexes took over, and he drew the Zantetsuken – just a fraction of a second before Jigen drew his Magnum. The door was closed. For now.

“Shit…” the gunman swore behind gritted teeth. He quickly glanced at Goemon. The samurai was already in a combat stance, ready to slice any security guard in half – or at least their guns, since his new boss favoured non-lethal methods. Goemon nodded at him, almost imperceptibly, signifying that he was ready for any eventuality. Jigen slowly made his way towards the door.

The power shouldn’t have been back on already. Goemon had no way to know for sure how much time had passed, but he was certain that it could not have been five minutes – and that had been Lupin’s low estimation. The master thief must have under-estimated the reactivity of the museum’s security guards, or had received bad intel on how the back-up electrical system worked.

The reason didn’t matter. Now it was up to Goemon and Jigen to deal with the fall-out and buy Lupin more time.

They slipped out of the control room, weapons at the ready, and carefully crept along the corridor in the vague direction of the exhibition room.

“We should split up,” Goemon suggested. “You go find Lupin, and I stay here and cover your back.”

Jigen shook his head and continued down the hallway.

“Boss said we stick together and keep the security guards busy and away from him.”

Jigen had said that, not Lupin, the samurai recalled, but he didn’t point it out. He was but a hired weapon, not the thinking brain of the operation, and if Lupin had approved of Jigen’s idea, Goemon had no place questioning it. Right now, proving his loyalty to the group was more important than giving his opinion, even if he believed he was right.

Hurried footsteps down the corridor drove them away from any argument they could have had. Both turned towards the source of the noise, weapons at the ready.

“There are four… no, five men,” Goemon whispered to his companion.

Jigen nodded. “Don’t strike until they’re near,” he instructed. “I don’t want to accidentally shoot you.”

The samurai almost protested, but he held himself back and bit the bullet. He was positive he could strike their opponents without being hit by a stray shot, but now was not the time to argue about his skills with Jigen. As much as he hated the idea, he had to do as he was told and prove himself to the others, before he could be trusted to fight for them.

The security guards rounded the corner, and Jigen immediately opened fire. Like Goemon had guessed, there were five of them, three men and two women, all wearing the uniform of the museum. They stopped dead and recoiled when they were met with a swarm of bullets and an actual, real-life samurai; but they quickly regained their spirit and opened fire as well. ~~~~

Goemon resorted to protection, cutting or deflecting the bullets, while Jigen shot at their opponents. It was hard not to get in the way of his partner’s movements, especially in such a narrow space and after the gunman had explicitly told him not to stand between him and his target. The samurai had to resort to incredible feats of flexibility to protect himself and his companion, leaping and ducking to avoid being hit, almost as if he were dancing.

It didn’t take long for Jigen to disarm the security guards, and he spent his last bullet shooting at the fire extinguisher, which exploded in the face of the five guards. He didn’t wait for them to gather their wits and their limbs. Instead, he immediately started running the other way, towards where Lupin was emptying the exhibition room. Goemon wanted to stay behind and make sure the guards wouldn’t pursue them, or call on reinforcement, but Lupin’s – or rather Jigen’s orders were clear: stick together, and catch up with the boss as soon as the first wave of guards was taken care of. Hopefully security hadn’t already caught up to the master thief, but if they had, Goemon figured that Lupin would rather have four helping hands than two.

Somewhere deep in the building, an alarm started wailing, and the samurai was almost sure he could hear more footsteps. He filed the information away and kept running, thankful that Jigen was taking the lead – even though he didn’t have to worry about tripping any wires now that they had set off the alarms.

They finally reached the exhibition room; at the exact same moment, the double doors on the opposite wall burst open, framing the distinctly recognizable silhouette of Inspector Zenigata. Goemon thought he heard Jigen sigh in frustration. Lupin had frozen in the middle of the room, like a deer in headlights, hand comically stuck inside the glass casing, ready to snatch the jewels. Zenigata had stopped in his tracks as well, and so had Jigen and Goemon. The whole scene looked like a strange mix between a still frame from an action movie and a Renaissance painting – until Lupin’s fingers closed on the diamond necklace and he pulled his hand back in one swift motion, his catch disappearing inside his green suit jacket. He flashed a toothy grin at the inspector, whose face was growing redder by the second, and waved at him.

“Sorry, Pops!”

This was apparently all Zenigata needed to come back to his spirits.

“LUPIN, YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!”

The inspector leapt forward, soon followed by a swarm of policemen and mirrored by Jigen and Goemon. Lupin was already scuttling across the tiled floor towards the exit.

Jigen had started shooting again, disarming the policemen with confounding precision. Goemon was thinking fast. He couldn’t kill his opponents; Lupin had been clear on that. Disarming them or cutting their weapons would place him in Jigen’s way – again. As for hitting them with the blunt edge of his sword…

The samurai jumped, blade bared. There was a moment of wavering among the policemen; even Jigen’s rhythm faltered just a split second. For an instant of grace, Goemon seemed to fly. His eyes were reduced to a thin split, all his being focused into the blade of his sword, and where it would cut.

Then the moment was shattered.

As was the fifty-kilogram glass casing formerly containing the two-carats diamond necklace.

Panic broke out, as the pedestal and the casing exploded into a thousand pieces flung at the policemen. Goemon fell back on his feet, and calmly pushed his sword back into its sheath, as if this had been a simple fencing exercise at the dojo. Jigen was still shooting, and apparently paying no mind to his companion, but a slight smile was stretching his lips.

“Oi! Guys!” Lupin’s voice came from behind them. “This way!”

The thief was standing in the doorframe, waving his two companions over.

“YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE YOU LITTLE WEASEL!” Zenigata yelled from where he was lying on his stomach, two wounded policemen sprawled on top of him.

He reached one arm towards Lupin and tried to stand up, but a bullet shot straight through his hat calmed him down for a bit. Goemon and Jigen turned on their heels and made a run for it, ignoring the vociferations of the inspector and the police’s half-hearted attempts at coming after them.

“I’m sorry to cut the festivities short, but we gotta get out of here!” Lupin exclaimed as they careened down the hallway.

“They’re gonna come after us, you know,” Jigen reminded him.

“Not before they disentangle themselves and get rid of all the glass shards in their uniforms,” Lupin retorted with a wide smile. “You did amazing back there, Goemon-chan!”

“Thank you.”

The samurai didn’t say anything else, and convinced himself that the slight blush he was feeling creep up on his cheeks was due to running. Jigen gave him a small thumbs up, and if he noticed anything of Goemon’s reaction, he didn’t say it.

Lupin was about to turn into a corridor leading to the main exit, when Goemon stopped in his tracks.

“Don’t go that way.”

The thief frowned in surprise, but he stopped nonetheless.

“Exit’s over there,” he pointed out.

“So is security. Can’t you hear them?”

“I can’t,” Jigen chimed in.

Goemon sighed inwardly. He had always considered his training to be an advantage, but that view was being somewhat challenged by having to convince his companions every time he said something.

“The floor is vibrating slightly,” he explained summarily. That was far from the whole truth, but now was not the time to launch into an essay on the subtleties of air vibrations, the tight but invisible bond between sound and touch, and how they resonated in his mind with the certainty that a whole squad of armed security guards was coming their way.

Thankfully, Lupin shrugged and made a U-turn into the corridor Goemon was pointing towards.

“Alright then, lead the way!”

Jigen opened his mouth to say something, but his two companions were already running like the wind down the hallway. He swallowed whatever he was about to say, and followed them.

The place was still just as labyrinthic as it had seemed on the way there, but Goemon was starting to know his way around a bit better. He could almost visualise the map of the building in his head, and after a few seconds, he had a clear vision of the way out avoiding security as much as possible. It was only a minute or two before they reached a fire exit. Goemon didn’t even stop to open it, he simply drew his sword and cut through the metal panels like they were made of cardboard.

“You could have just pushed the handle, you know,” Lupin teased him as they raced down the flight of stairs.

“The sword worked just fine.”

Lupin scoffed, and pushed open the second door at the bottom of the stairs before his companion could draw his blade out again.

The cold air of the night was like a slap in the face. It washed off some of the adrenaline permeating their whole minds; and the master thief came to a halt, soon followed by his two friends, as the door slammed shut behind them. He took a deep breath of fresh air, and absentmindedly patted his jacket pocket, making sure that the necklace was still where he had put it. In the distance, they could hear the wailing of the police sirens, and some dispersed shouts coming from the windows above them.

Then, without warning, he started laughing.

It was a full-hearted, careless laughter, bubbling out of his chest and filling the night with his joy and relief. Goemon was taken aback for a second, but the master thief’s hilarity was contagious. It was just a snicker at first, but soon he and Jigen both found themselves laughing with their partner, sharing the simple joy of having once again fooled their pursuers and made away with the treasure.

Goemon knew full well that Lupin didn’t give a damn about the jewels themselves, not after he had finished stealing them. Fujiko would probably forget her suitor’s offering in a week or two, and demand a new one. Jigen pretended he cared, but truly all he wanted was to follow and protect the thief. As for Goemon…

As they silently made their way towards the car, hidden somewhere in the underbrush, Goemon tried to think about what he wanted out of these heists. Claiming to care about the value of the artifacts they stole would be lying to himself. The beauty of a stone may move him, the history behind a jewel may entertain him, the reputation of a painting may increase his pride at getting a hold of it. But the value given to whatever treasure they stole that day was simply a number, that Goemon couldn’t care less about.

What was it, then? The thrill of the chase? The challenge? A duty to uphold his family’s traditions, and carry his ancestor’s name and legacy? There was all that, some of it, he couldn’t deny it. But the real reason, the core piece of the puzzle, was somewhere else. He couldn’t find it, and that was frustrating to no end.

Goemon took a deep breath and climbed into the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Whatever the real reason that had pushed him to follow Lupin was, he would find it soon enough. In the meantime, he could make-do with the things he learned from the master thief and his gunman, polish his skills, and strive to better himself, day after day. When there was nothing else to guide him, his training and his quest for perfection were what he always came back to. He could always rely on that.

Lupin slipped one hand in his jacket’s inside pocket, the other on the steering wheel, and pulled out the necklace he had just snatched from the museum. In the dim light of passing lamp posts, it glimmered like a river of stars; and so did the thief’s eyes.

“Fujiko is gonna love it, dontcha think?” he declared, before unceremoniously tossing the necklace onto the back seat next to Goemon.

The samurai sighed. He had hoped maybe this time the heist hadn’t been to fulfil another one of Fujiko’s requests, or an umpteenth offering from her enamoured and unlucky suitor. But he couldn’t really fault him – he knew Fujiko, and how irresistible she could be. He tried not to dwell too much on that part of his life, and the betrayals that had followed; but still, after all this time he couldn’t help but feel flustered whenever Lupin’s would-be girlfriend interacted with him. And interact she did.

Glancing into the rear-view mirror, Goemon noted with satisfaction that Jigen had had the same reaction. Maybe, one day, if they put their strength together, the gunman and the samurai could convince their boss not to give in to Fujiko’s siren call, and to finally grow a few braincells in the “common sense” and “self-preservation” areas. But he didn’t have much hope of that.

Thankfully Jigen’s glare was enough to make Lupin drop the topic of his undying (and very expensive) love for Fujiko. Instead, he turned to his partners, a wide smile illuminating his face.

“Great job you did out there, guys. I knew I could count on you!”

Jigen simply shrugged, and sunk down into his seat. “Only did my job, boss.”

The gunman’s discreet smile wasn’t lost on Goemon, and probably not on Lupin either. The samurai nodded, confirming Jigen’s comment.

“These men were low-level goons,” he added. “They were easy to put out of action.”

“Still,” Lupin insisted. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Jigen and Goemon both knew this wasn’t true. Lupin had, and still would, pull heists more dangerous than this one on his own. It wouldn’t have been as quick, or gone as smoothly, without his two partners, and he might have had to slip out of Inspector Zenigata’s handcuffs and escape a prison van. But that was part of a thief’s daily life, and Lupin could do all this in his sleep. Goemon didn’t really think Lupin needed them. They just made things easier and more interesting for him. And he for them.

///

The safe-house they had chosen was far away from the museum, a precaution Lupin had taken to make sure that the police wouldn’t come looking for them. It was a cramped little flat in a nondescript apartment building, lost somewhere in a small residential town in the foothills of the Kurotori mountains. Goemon didn’t like these apartments much, but the presence of close-by nature soothed his mind a little. If he needed, he could always take his leave from Lupin and Jigen, at least for a little while, and find some village or lost cabin in the mountains to rest and train.

But Goemon knew this was just wishful thinking to comfort himself. That wasn’t what he had planned when he had joined Lupin’s gang. This wasn’t going to be a part-time job he came back to whenever he felt like it. He had agreed to work with – no, _for_ the master thief, to learn from him, and he couldn’t achieve that if he only spent a few weeks at a time with him. The realization of what his life was going to look like from now on was dizzying, but Goemon’s resolve did not falter. He had put his grudges aside and sworn loyalty to Lupin, and he would make good on his commitment.

Speaking of loyalty…

Goemon raised his head from the book he was studying when Jigen pushed the door open and stepped into the room, a Styrofoam bowl of instant ramen in his hands. He dropped onto the couch and immediately slung his legs over the armrest, before glancing at Goemon from under the brim of his hat.

“Enjoy your meal,” the samurai said, face as straight and unreadable as always.

Jigen tried to decipher his expression for a second, then gave up.

“This thing? Its only interest is that it fills my stomach. It tastes like crap.”

“Then why do you not cook something better?”

“Too much effort.”

And with that, Jigen turned away and started eating, paying no mind at all to his colleague. Or so Goemon thought at first; but every now and then, Jigen quickly glanced in the samurai’s direction, probably thinking he wasn’t looking. After a few minutes of this little game, Goemon closed his book and set it down on the floor beside him, then turned to his partner.

“Jigen-san, is there something on my face?”

Jigen froze, his chopsticks halfway between his bowl and his face. Goemon kept staring at him until he put his food down, and finally turned towards the samurai, a look of surprise painted on his face.

“Errr… No?”

“Then why do you keep looking at me?”

“I’m not!”

Goemon sighed inwardly. Jigen probably thought he hadn’t noticed, and maybe he didn’t want him to think he was being rude. But if he wanted to hide his suspicion, the gunman would have to work harder on his discretion.

“Lupin-dono trusts me,” said Goemon.

Jigen’s expression hardened.

“Yeah, well, he trusts Fujiko too.”

Goemon tightened his fists for just a second, before forcing himself to regain his calm.

He couldn’t fault Jigen for being wary of him, not after what had happened when they had first met. Dealing with the gunman’s distrust was one thing, that he had wordlessly agreed to when he had joined Lupin. Being compared to the thief’s backstabbing on-again-off-again girlfriend, however, was another thing entirely. And Jigen knew perfectly well how close to home he was hitting.

“I am nothing like her, and you _know_ that,” Goemon reminded, as calmly and politely as he could manage. Starting a fight with Jigen now would lead him nowhere.

The gunman pulled his hat lower over his eyes, picked up his bowl and stood up.

“We’ll see about that.”

Goemon’s gaze followed him as he walked across the room and through the door, closing it behind him with a loud _clack._ He stared at the closed door for a few moments more. His shoulders slouched down a bit when he suddenly noticed the tension in his body.

Well, this hadn’t gone _too_ badly.

He didn’t _need_ Jigen’s trust, Goemon told himself. It would certainly make things easier, work-wise, if everyone in the group could rely on each other without a second thought. But as long as Goemon’s skills were acknowledged, he could do his job just fine. He admired Jigen, and could recognize a fellow warrior’s talents; and he knew it was reciprocal. If he had the cold and distant professional respect of his partner, that was enough.

Five minutes of unsuccessful attempts at reading later, Goemon put down his book again and plunged himself into meditation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I spend several hours neck-deep in research about kabuki theater just so I could write about Goemon infodumping? Yes. Yes I did.

Lupin and Jigen spoke softly for a while, reminiscing on past heists, failures and successes. The thief burst out in laughter every now and then, and Jigen worried that they might disturb Goemon’s meditation. But the samurai paid them no mind at all, and the gunman wondered whether his friend might have fallen asleep.

Eventually, the quiet conversation died down, and silence fell on the misty onsen. Lupin and Goemon were now quietly relaxing in the warm water, and Jigen’s attention wavered off.

Light-hearted conversations and childish banter were not quite what he had expected from a strictly professional partnership with Lupin. But then, not much of what his life had become since they had met had been as he had expected it.

Lupin had come in like a hurricane, blowing everything away in his path, and had snatched Jigen like he was another jewel on his list, swept him along with a force that he couldn’t even hope to resist. And Jigen hadn’t even tried to. The gunman sincerely wondered how anyone could resist the master thief – he was endearing, witty, charismatic, and, well, admittedly somewhat of a brat sometimes (a lot of the time), but his charm more than made up for that. Jigen couldn’t be mad at him for longer than a day – and he had tried. Whenever Lupin needed him, all he had to do was waltz in with that goddamn smile of his, and he’d sweep Jigen, his gun and his heart away with him.

His heart.

That was what Lupin had snatched from Jigen, almost the first day they had met. Not that Lupin had even realised it – it just laid there with all the others the thief had stolen, while he moved forward, endlessly chasing a woman he couldn’t have.

And all the while, Jigen followed, endlessly chasing a man…

Shit.

For lack of a hat to pull over his face, the gunman let his bangs fall over his eyes, and sunk down into the water until it almost reached his nose. He was getting pathetic in his old age. Of course, he’d never have Lupin, that was a given. But at least he hadn’t been thrown away like all the other dolls the thief crossed path with. They really did share something, a bond that was stronger than anything Lupin had with anyone, even though it wasn’t exactly what Jigen wished for. Lupin was happy, and so Jigen was happy as well.

That’s what he told himself as he watched Lupin splash around in the onsen, laughing openly, completely unaware of his partner’s sudden bout of self-pity. Goemon was loudly complaining, and trying to get away from the unruly thief. As a last resort, he threw a towel square into his friend’s face, effectively making Lupin stop chasing him. The thief fell back into the water and helplessly flailed around, trying to keep himself afloat – which amounted to the same result, a wet and annoyed samurai.

Jigen smiled softly. Goemon sure had a lot to put up with, but Jigen knew the young man wouldn’t stick around if he didn’t want to. Especially in moments like this, outside of the heists, the fights and the chases. Lupin meant just as much to the samurai as he did to the gunman, albeit in a different way.

Jigen scoffed and turned his eyes away when he realised he had been staring at his friend’s brawny chest and shoulders and his silky black hair for a few seconds too long.

Brawny? Silky? Christ, Jigen really needed to get a grip on himself. He shouldn’t think of Goemon that way, when Goemon didn’t towards him. They were brothers in arms; warriors with a mutual respect for each other’s skills. Partners in crime. _Friends_. And that was _it_. Goemon didn’t seem to be interested in men – or much in women, for that matter – and even if he was, he wouldn’t be interested in an aging, battered and broken man like Jigen, when his looks and his heart of gold could get him so much better.

The gunman sighed.

“Hey, where are you going?” Lupin shouted out when he noticed Jigen climbing out of the pool.

“Just getting some fresh air, don’t mind me,” Jigen replied. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

He could feel Goemon’s mildly concerned gaze on his back, and Lupin’s just a bit lower; but neither said anything, and they went back to the warm water and their conversation, while Jigen walked away. The contact of the cool stone under his feet was a welcome shock, anchoring him back to reality. He tiptoed around, silently creeping past the surrounding pools and avoiding their (thankfully few) occupants, until he reached the main building. He was craving a smoke – again. Goemon would make a remark on his bad habit, and Lupin would scrounge for one, so all in all it was a good thing that they weren’t with him. He sneaked silently inside, and went to scavenge through the pile of folded clothes and random belongings that he and his partners had left in the changing room. He lit his cig as soon as he came back out, and took one long drag, before letting the warm smoke pour out of his mouth. His eyes followed the string of smoke as it floated away and dissolved into the cool evening air; but his mind was already far away.

///

Carrying weapons around town while trying to look inconspicuous was no small feat. Especially when you looked like you’d come straight out of a mafia movie, and when your companion refused to dress any other way than the textbook picture of a traditional samurai. Thankfully Goemon never donned the full armour, but his hakama and kimono were already weird enough, and the sword attracted attention. Usually, most people assumed that Goemon was wearing some sort of costume, but Jigen didn’t like the risk they were taking. Thankfully, the warehouse complex they were headed to was situated in a rather deserted area on the outskirts of La Coruña, and they didn’t come across many people.

The abandoned warehouse that Jigen had set his sights on was located somewhere along the docks, and no one ever visited it. It reeked of old fish, rotting cordage and seagull droppings, but at least that meant no one would bother them here. Goemon followed him to the farthest warehouse, where Jigen shot the lock open. They slipped in through the ajar door, leaving the docks empty.

“I cannot say this is my favoured training ground…” the samurai remarked.

He slowly spun around to take in his surroundings.

The room was huge.

Several cracked plastic windows sprinkled the roof, letting a dirty grey light filter in. Here and there, a concrete pillar punctuated the monotony of the dusty floor, and most of the walls sported cracks and shallow holes. There had been neon lights flooding the place once, but they had long since died out or been shattered. A few wooden crates and some broken fishing equipment were gathering dust in the darkened corners, and the floor was littered with broken glass and some other materials that Goemon didn’t particularly want to identify.

“It’s the best I could find in this god-forsaken city,” Jigen replied as he walked to the approximate centre of the building. “Only other option was to drive two hours into the countryside and try to find an empty meadow or something.”

The samurai shrugged.

“This will do. A fight can break out in any sort of environment, it would be a mistake to always train in the same ones.”

“Wiser words were never uttered,” Jigen declared in a jokingly humble tone.

Goemon scoffed, and turned away from his partner. Jigen followed out of the corner of his eyes, as the samurai drew out his sword and gave a few experimental pokes around in the air, testing his footing and his space. The gunman then walked around and inspected the solidity of the pillars. Considering himself satisfied with their training ground, he dropped the duffle bag he was carrying on the floor, and knelt to forage in it.

“Oi, Goemon-san! Catch!”

The samurai spun around and caught the bundle that was being thrown at him. He opened it, and frowned.

“A bullet-proof vest? Why?”

“You’re gonna need it.”

“I can parry your bullets, Jigen-san, you know that.”

“That’s the problem. You’re not supposed to, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Goemon held the vest at arm’s length, regarding it with confusion.

“Remind me why we need to do this, again?”

Jigen zipped the bag closed and stood back up, a second vest in his hand.

“It’s a precaution. Lupin’s idea. If someone tricks us into fighting each other, we out-trick them by… well, fighting, but without actually hurting anyone.”

“Pretend we wounded or killed each other, while actually striking a spot where our opponent is protected,” Goemon completed. “I understand the idea, Lupin-dono has explained it to me already. But I still fail to see what use this vest will be.”

“You’re not supposed to parry, that’s the whole point. And if I miss, you’re screwed.”

The samurai seemed to hesitate for an instant. Then he nodded, and started putting on the vest.

Jigen allowed himself to watch for just a second or two, as Goemon slipped out of his kimono before stretching to put on the vest. Then the gunman turned around and did the same, shrugging off his suit jacket and his shirt, then painfully twisting into the heavy garment. God, these things were impractical. And they made his tailored suits look ill-fitting. But then he wasn’t planning to wear an Armani suit to a training session where he was meant to be slashed at. Hopefully Goemon had thought of that too, and had chosen a kimono he didn’t care about too much.

“Mark a spot on the vest with this,” Jigen instructed before throwing a marker at Goemon.

The samurai nodded, and drew a red cross on the thick nylon fabric, somewhere around where his heart was. He handed the pen back to his partner, who did the same before putting his clothes back on.

“I know you can aim for a tiny moving spot already,” the gunman explained. “The idea is to aim for the cross, without actually having it in view.”

Goemon hummed in agreement.

“That is going to be complicated, but far from impossible.”

Jigen smiled inwardly. His partner’s optimism was endearing, but he knew that a trick like this one would demand much more training and preparation than the samurai was expecting. He knew the extent of Goemon’s skills, just like he knew Lupin’s. But skills alone weren’t enough to master something like this, not with someone you barely knew.

Jigen drew out his Combat Magnum and took a few steps back.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” Goemon replied, shifting into a combat stance.

“We just fight like usual, and when I give you the signal, don’t block my attack.”

Silence fell on the empty warehouse. The two opponents stared each other down, and the seconds ticked away in the still air. Then a deafening bang tore the silence. Suddenly there was movement, where there had been perfect stillness just seconds before. Movement too fast for human eyes to easily follow, and certainly for human reflexes to produce, or so most people thought. The two men ran and leapt throughout the room, hiding behind the pillars and striking at each other. Jigen did most of the attacking, as Goemon couldn’t get near enough to cut him without being shot at. But that didn’t mean any of Jigen’s bullets hit their target. The samurai’s sword acted almost like a shield, an impenetrable barrier that cut down any bullet coming his way.

The dance lasted for a minute or so, before a shout filled the empty warehouse.

“NOW!”

Goemon flew backwards when the bullet hit him in the ribs, but he managed to roll backwards to absorb the shock. He was back on his feet in no time, sword menacingly pointed towards the gunman. He lowered it down when Jigen made his way towards him, gun back in its holster.

“So?”

The samurai pulled on the hem of his now torn up kimono and examined the bullet-proof jacket. There was a smoking hole in the front, and the bullet was caught somewhere inside. The impact was clearly going to leave a bruise, and not a small one.

“Two centimetres off,” he declared, pulling his kimono closed.

“Damn,” Jigen swore between his teeth.

Of course, he wasn’t going to shoot right on his first try. And even if he did, it would have just been dumb luck. But the failure still stung a bit.

“Alright, let’s try again.”

A few more rounds of dance-like mock fight went by, before they switched roles. Goemon didn’t have more luck than his partner. He was only supposed to cut through Jigen’s old t-shirt without touching him, as the Kevlar jacket didn’t offer much protection against the legendary steel-cutting sword. At the end of the exercise, Jigen was suffering from a few cuts, but none at the spot marked by a cross.

The evening was already starting to fall when the two opponents stopped fighting. Jigen was panting, not being used to running around for so long. His younger partner looked like he had just taken a leisurely stroll in the woods, but the gunman knew that behind his calm and composed mask, Goemon was starting to tire out.

Jigen pushed his Magnum back into its holster and turned to the samurai.

“Let’s call it a day, alright?”

“I can train more,” Goemon protested.

“We’ll train more tomorrow. Right now, I’m craving a hot shower and a smoke.”

He turned on his heels and headed to the exit. Behind him, he heard the click of the sword returning to its sheath, then Goemon’s footsteps following him.

Well, that had been a… training session. Jigen wasn’t quite sure either of them had really learned something they could actually put a finger on. But fighting the samurai in a controlled environment like this one was completely different from the few duels, or rather chaotic fights, they had had before Goemon had joined them. There was no longer the threat of imminent death looming over them, and he could properly focus on the subtleties of the swordsman’s technique, his movements, where and when he would strike, or how he would dodge and parry Jigen’s bullets. And he knew Goemon had been observing the same things in him. Even if they hadn’t made any visible progress yet, they had both begun to learn. Lupin would be satisfied.

Jigen turned to glance at his companion. Goemon was walking - surprisingly silently for someone wearing flip-flops on gravel – his sword hanging by his side, his usual stern and unreadable expression covering his face. Jigen had rarely met an opponent as skilled as him, and certainly not one so young, and wielding such a deadly weapon. It was a good thing Goemon was on his side now, and not against him.

The gunman smiled to himself. Never mind Lupin. Jigen was satisfied.

///

“WE’RE HOOOOOOME!”

Jigen let Goemon walk in first, then slammed the door behind him. The apartment was messy, but thankfully not dirty yet, as they had only been here for a couple of days. The smell of food lingered in the hallway, mixed with cold tobacco. The gunman made his way to the living room, stepping over a pile of dirty clothes on the way, while Goemon made a bee-line for the shower, and stopped for a second as he passed by his boss.

“Hello, Lupin-dono,” he greeted him with a courteous nod.

“Yo, Goemon,” the thief replied with a friendly smile. “Come on, I’ve told you to drop the dono already…”

“…Sorry.”

The samurai looked down, and walked away. Lupin shrugged and turned towards the gunman, who had just let himself fall down onto the couch.

“So, did you two have fun?” he asked.

“I guess you could say that,” the gunman muttered. “There’s a bunch of cuts I need to take care of, and Goemon is going to have bruises everywhere for the next two weeks at least.”

“Damn. Forgot to use your safe word?” Lupin asked with a heavy wink in Jigen’s direction.

The gunman grunted in frustration.

“We were _fighting_ , you moron. God’s sake, stop thinking with your dick.”

“Speaking of,” Lupin added as if Jigen hadn’t said anything, “I’m seeing Fujicakes tonight, so I’m gonna have to leave you two. Try not to break the bed.”

Jigen threw his dirty shirt in Lupin’s face.

“There’s pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry,” the thief concluded before tossing the shirt back at Jigen.

He waved cheerfully at his partner, then passed the door and disappeared.

Jigen sighed, and let himself melt into the couch. Lupin could be really damn obnoxious sometimes, and the gunman couldn’t figure out if it was on purpose, or if the thief was just a moron. Making jokes about Jigen’s orientation was one thing, they’d been friends for ages and Jigen didn’t mind. Sure, it stung a bit, especially when back-to-back with Lupin announcing he had a date with Fujiko; but he could take it, he always had. Bringing Goemon into it, though, was just… 

Mean? Cruel? Disrespectful?

To both him and the samurai.

Jigen settled on stupid and left it at that. Lupin wasn’t a bad person, and Jigen was convinced – or he convinced himself – that he wasn’t trying to hurt his partner on purpose. But by God, he was so damn oblivious sometimes.

The gunman was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the shower suddenly stopping, followed a few seconds later by a door being opened and closed, and soft footfall in the hallway. Right. He should probably take a shower and have a look at those cuts, now that Goemon was done.

“Did Lupin-dono leave?” the samurai asked as he passed Jigen by.

“Yup. Said he had a date with Fujiko.”

Goemon didn’t say anything, but Jigen could see a look of tired disappointment flash in his eyes. The gunman smiled inwardly. He and Goemon were not so dissimilar, although bonding over a mutual distrust of their boss’s girlfriend may be considered a bit weird.

The burning shower did him a world of good, and thankfully all of his cuts were rather shallow. He silently thanked Goemon for using such a sharp sword. At least any injury caused by it would heal without scarring, and death served by it would be quick and painless.

Jigen froze for just a second, and angrily pushed the thought away. He had to stop thinking of Goemon as a threat. The samurai had proven already that he was a loyal ally, and Jigen had no right to be suspicious of him, not after all this time.

And he had to stop thinking of him as a threat in every other way.

Jigen’s stomach loudly reminded itself to him. He hurriedly dried his unruly hair and slipped into a shirt and a pair of trousers, before heading for the kitchen. He poked his head in through the door of the living room on the way. The TV was on, with the volume turned down low, and Goemon was sitting cross-legged and eyes closed on the couch. To anyone else, it might look like the samurai was fast asleep, but Jigen knew that he was still acutely aware of his environment. Or… somewhat removed from it? Goemon had once tried to explain to him how mindful meditation worked, but he hadn’t understood anything, and the samurai had eventually given up.

Like Lupin had said, there was a pizza in the fridge. Although, a stale half pizza would have been more accurate. There was no way this could qualify as a full dinner for Jigen, let alone for him and Goemon – and that was in the unlikely scenario that he managed to convince the samurai to try some. Jigen stood back up from where he was kneeling in front of the fridge, and took a look around the kitchen. The gang didn’t use it much, microwaving day-old take-out being their preferred method of cooking. Which was ironic considering how much money they had and how high their respective tastes were; but it seemed that when they weren’t living like kings, Lupin and his friends lived like broke college students on a weekly budget.

However, they did have fresh food lying around (usually bought by Goemon), in case one of them finally got the motivation to cook an actual meal (usually Goemon). It took Jigen a few minutes to hunt down and retrieve all the usable ingredients, assess their level of edibleness, decide which to keep, which to throw away, and which to put back on their shelves; then he rolled his sleeves up and set to work.

An hour and a half, a messy kitchen and several minor cuts to his fingers later, he had two bowls of chicken ramen in front of him. It was missing a few ingredients, and he had had to swap the shiitake with portobello mushrooms; but it smelled good, and probably tasted as much. Hopefully.

Jigen took a wide glance around the kitchen, and elected to leave the dishes and cleaning for later. With some luck, he might even manage to force Lupin to help him. He put the two bowls on a platter, along with mismatched spoons and disposable chopsticks, and headed for the living room, where the samurai had been meditating for the past hour or so.

Alright. Now to try and offer Goemon some homemade food he spent an hour cooking for him, without making it seem like a big deal…

He remembered he hadn’t asked the samurai if he liked ramen, or even if he was hungry at all. He had been trying to make a friendly gesture, but he only now realised how uncharacteristic of him this was going to look in the samurai’s eyes. Or would Goemon think he was trying to buy his friendship?

Ah, well. Food was food. And if Goemon didn’t want it, Jigen would just have more ramen for himself.

He knocked on the door to announce himself, and didn’t wait for a response to push it open with his foot. Goemon hadn’t moved an inch since Jigen had left him, and the gunman may have thought he had been turned to stone, if he hadn’t opened an eye when his partner walked in. He still didn’t move, but simply greeted him with a nod, shifted a bit, and seemingly fell back into meditation.

Well. So much for small-talk.

Jigen awkwardly walked to the pool table and set the platter down, before carefully sitting on the couch, trying not to disturb Goemon too much.

A few seconds passed.

“I uuuh… made food.”

Goemon opened his eyes, looking slightly confused.

“Yes, I can see that.”

His eyes travelled from the bowl Jigen was gingerly holding out to him, and the one on the table.

“Oh. I…”

The samurai looked surprised, as if a bowl of steaming chicken ramen with green onions posing as negi had been the last thing he had been expecting to see tonight.

“You mean, you made food for me?”

“Uuuh… Yeah?”

“Why?”

Well, this was not how Jigen had expected this to go.

“I figured you wouldn’t like pizza,” he replied after a few seconds of hesitation.

He nervously scratched his neck, and extended the steaming bowl towards Goemon. The samurai took it with both hands and set it down on the floor next to him.

“Thank you, Jigen-san.”

Jigen silently let out a relieved breath, while Goemon leaned down towards the pool table to grab a pair of chopsticks. After a few seconds of being caught off guard, he was back to acting like his usual calm, composed and generally unreadable self. The gunman wasn’t sure if it was the lighting, the warm food or his imagination, but it looked like a light flush had crept on his partner’s cheeks. Jigen thought that Goemon looked rather cute when he wasn’t trying to cut him in half; then he immediately proceeded to give himself a mental slap in the face.

“So, uuh…” Jigen started while poking around at his bowl with his chopsticks. “That kabuki play you went to watch yesterday. What was it about?”

Goemon raised his head to look at his companion.

“It was Kanadehon Chūshingura. Surely you have heard of it?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“It retells the story of the forty-six ronin, a famous epic of the Edo period. I am surprised you have never heard the story.”

“Hold on,” Jigen pointed his chopsticks at his companion, “isn’t that the story of the gang of samurais who avenged their murdered lord, then all committed seppuku? I thought that was a puppet play?”

Goemon smiled, and straightened up in his seat.

“Yes, originally it was a puppet play. Although it was adapted for kabuki theatre a few years later. I personally think that kabuki serves the story better, but I may not be entirely partial on the matter.”

“And what’s it about?”

Goemon frowned.

“Well, it is about the forty-six ronin.”

“No, I mean… What’s it _really_ about? The themes, the morals… What’s it trying to say?”

The young man stilled for a second, chopsticks hovering uncertainly over his bowl.

“It is a bit of a complex subject.”

“Go on. I’m listening.”

There was a glint in Goemon’s eyes when he started talking, that Jigen didn’t miss.

“Well… The main theme of the play is the code of Bushido,” he explained, carefully choosing his words. “How the loyalty of a samurai towards his lord pushes him to choose a rightful and honourable revenge, inevitably leading him to his death, over the easy and safe path of cowardice and dishonour. But it is not all there is to this play.”

“Damn, that’s already a pretty heavy topic, if you ask me,” Jigen retorted. “What else is there?”

The samurai seemed to hesitate for a few seconds. Then he set his chopsticks down on his bowl, and turned to face his companion.

“Alright, so. Back in the Edo period, kabuki theatre was mainly known for two types of play: scenes of contemporary life, and historical pieces. Chūshingura is one of the latter, called a jidaimono. These plays were often about great samurai battles and other epic stories. The thing is, in the Edo period, there were heavy restriction on telling stories about recent historical events, especially ones that painted the shogun in a bad light. And by heavy restrictions, I mean to say outright censorship.”

Jigen had stilled, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, to watch Goemon talk. This was probably the longest he had ever heard him speak since they had met. Was it his imagination, or was there a hint of a smile on the samurai’s lips?

“Let me guess,” the gunman chimed in. “That Chushin-something play made the shogun look like a complete fool?”

“Poorly worded, but close,” Goemon nodded. “In fact, the play came out only weeks after the events surrounding the forty-six ronin in question unfolded, but with the names changed. It was obviously meant as a critique of the shogun’s power. Well… The puppet play was, and it was shut down immediately. So, in order to avoid censorship, the writers of the kabuki play explicitly set the action in the fourteenth century, rather than in the eighteenth, and called it a historical play.”

“Sneaky. But don’t tell me that fooled the censors.”

Goemon shook his head. The glint in his eyes shone brighter when he continued.

“Of course it did not. But they could not say anything, and the play became extremely popular, to the point that shutting it down would have only served its purpose. In fact, a lot of jidaimono plays depicted contemporary events under the guise of historical plots. It was quite a common practice.”

Goemon leaned back into the couch and took a sip of his ramen soup. “That is not to say that the shogun was fine with it,” he added, “but if he did not want to deal with the backlash, he should not have made Lord Asano kill himself in the first place.”

Jigen snorted. “That story is still known three hundred years later, so I’d say the shogun fucked up big time.”

Goemon smiled, and nodded.

“Indeed. And for as long as it is played, this story will continue to serve as a reminder of the values of Bushido.”

“Loyalty?” Jigen suggested.

“Loyalty, self-sacrifice… The list goes on. Bushido is not set in stone like most people seem to think, and it has changed much over the centuries,” Goemon explained. “Most importantly, a samurai must act with honour, and do what he or she thinks is right. That is what Bushido truly means.”

Jigen nodded sagely, unsure what to respond to that.

Goemon’s eyes had lit up, as soon as he had started delving into his explanations about the play, and he had barely touched his food since. This wasn’t new to Jigen, he had known plenty of people who got excited and carried away when talking about something they loved, starting with Lupin. But coming from the samurai, who was usually so reserved and sparse on words, it was a surprise. Add to that Goemon’s 19th-century-grammar-book speech pattern, and it felt like being given a lecture by a very enthusiastic embodiment of Wikipedia.

It was a _good_ surprise, he had to admit.

Goemon coughed into his fist, bringing Jigen back to reality – and in the same time making him realise that he had been staring at the light blush on his partner’s face for way longer than was polite, or even normal.

“But I do not want to bore you with such dry topics,” the samurai declared, before focusing all his attention on his bowl of ramen.

Jigen did a double take, and nearly spilled his soup by slamming the bowl on the coffee table.

“You’re not!”

“Thank you, Jigen-san, but I know that my special interests are rarely shared by others. You do not need to pretend to listen for the sake of my feelings.”

Jigen sighed inwardly. There, he had just gone and fucked it up again. Getting Goemon to talk was already hard enough, convincing him that he was genuinely interested in what he had to say looked even more complicated.

“From what I understand…” the gunman started tentatively after a few seconds of reflexion, “this Bushido code of yours sounds a bit like the moral code of the cowboys.”

Apparently, Goemon had not been expecting such a comparison, as was suggested by the weird noise he made with his ramen.

“Well, the ones from Western movies alright,” Jigen quickly added, “not the actual guys who kept the cows.”

The samurai lowered his bowl, and raised an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“It’s just… They’ve both been heavily romanticized, you know?” Jigen waved vaguely in the air with his chopsticks. “Western movies draw a lot from the samurai. The honour, the solitude, the social class representing the past glory of a decaying country… All that jazz. And revenge is a recurring theme in them too, like in your kabuki play.”

Goemon nodded.

“Mmh. I have heard of some famous samurai movies having been remade into westerns. I cannot say that I approve of the concept, but it is certainly… interesting.”

Jigen smiled discreetly. His companion had relaxed again, and was starting to come back out of his shell. Maybe they’d be able to keep chatting after all. Despite his usual closed-off-ness, Goemon was proving to be a very interesting fellow.

“D’you mind backtracking a bit?” the gunman asked. “Earlier you said he or she. What was that about?”

“Ah. That would be the onna bugeisha…”

Jigen leaned back into the couch and smiled.

For several hours, Goemon kept talking, and Jigen kept asking for precisions and peppering in a few of his own anecdotes. At some point in the evening, the gunman got up to put the bowls away, and a moment later the samurai disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of sake.

It was well into the night when Lupin finally came back to the little flat, slightly buzzed and with a bright pink kiss mark on his cheek, only to find his two partners snoring on the couch, an empty bottle of sake in front of them. The sight made him smile as he silently tiptoed to his bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small reminder about the Japanese honorifics used in this chapter:  
> -it's considered very rude to refer to someone by only their name without a suffix, unless you're really close (like, bff or s/o close).  
> -chan and -kun are what you use for friends, classmates, or colleagues who you're close to. -chan is mostly for girls, and can be considered demeaning when used on a man.  
> -sensei means professor or master, used for teachers, doctors, politicians, lawyers, and other authority figures.  
> -san is the go-to polite suffix, somewhat equivalent to Mr or Mrs, used for strangers or people on the same hierarchical level as you (colleagues, etc).  
> -dono is a rarer honorific, a bit like "milord". In the past t was used by samurais for their lord, and by commoners for samurais. Nowadays it's rarely used, only in very specific situations; for example, Goemon sometimes calls Zenigata "keibu-dono". It's somewhere between -san and -sama in terms of politeness.
> 
> Here comes your dose of "Lupin is bi and oblivious af", enjoy!

The onsen had grown quiet. For the last few minutes (or was it hours?) Lupin had been looking at Jigen, wondering what went on in his mind. The lapping of the water had lulled the gunman into a contemplative state, which was quite uncharacteristic of him. Jigen was the king of napping on any available surfaces, anyone who knew him could tell you that; but it was rare for him to completely relax and forget all worries and responsibilities. Even when his friends were by his side – or, strangely, _especially_ when his friends were by his side.

The gunman considered that he had a duty to protect his partners, Lupin knew it, and he couldn’t thank him enough for it. He didn’t, in fact, thank him enough. Either way, Jigen always shut him up when he did, looking adorably embarrassed, and trying to hide the fact that he cared. Lupin had always found that part of him endearing – that under his cold and brash outside, he actually cared more about his friends than he’d ever admit. In Jigen’s case, actions spoke louder than words.

Lupin let his gaze fall from Jigen’s face, and follow the curves of his neck and his strong shoulders. His tanned and chiselled skin glistened with droplets of water, making it almost glow in the dim evening light. No surprise the thief always felt safer by Jigen’s side, with a partner so strong and handsome – not to mention talented. He smiled in amusement. It was a mystery why Jigen didn’t have every woman at his feet, looking like that. Or every man, since that was what he preferred. But the only women who seemed to be attracted to the gunman were either the desperate or the back-stabbing ones, and men of Jigen’s kind were surprisingly hard to come by. If Lupin himself had been gay, the gunman certainly wouldn’t stay single for very long.

Ah, well. Jigen would find someone eventually. He deserved it.

As if he had felt Lupin staring at him, Jigen opened his eyes and stretched.

“Hey, where are you going?” the thief asked, as his partner stood up and climbed out of the water.

“Just getting some fresh air, don’t mind me,” Jigen replied. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

On the other side of the pool, Goemon opened an eye, glanced at Jigen, then closed it again.

Lupin followed his partner with his eyes, admiring the vibrant tattoos glistening on his back, until the gunman disappeared from view. Then his gaze drifted back onto Goemon. The samurai was leaning lazily against the smooth rocks enclosing the pool, a soft smile stretching his lips. The thief could almost hear him hum softly, although he couldn’t make out the melody. It was more like Goemon to relax completely, when given the occasion. And by God was he beautiful when he was like that. And also when he was fighting. And also… Well, Goemon was a beautiful man, anyone with eyes could see that.

Lupin’s attention trailed off to where Jigen had left. Had the gunman noticed that yet? Or was he completely blind? Although… Neither Jigen nor Goemon ever talked about their love life, and Lupin realised that the two of them could very well be a thing, and he’d be none the wiser. Maybe he should ask Goemon one day.

The samurai may have looked perfectly relaxed and unaware of his surroundings, but Lupin knew that at the slightest sign of danger, he would be up on his feet and ready to defend himself and his friends. The thief toyed with the idea of throwing a towel at his face, just to see if he’d catch it, then pushed it away. It would be fun for a few seconds, but then Goemon would be mad at him for the rest of the evening, and then Jigen would be mad at him too for disturbing his friend, and Lupin would feel like crap. Not worth it.

The onsen was quiet. Again. Lupin knew that Goemon would have disagreed, and to be fair, nothing was ever completely silent. But to the thief, there was a difference, and he didn’t like when things were quiet for too long. It was boring. Goemon didn’t seem intent on talking with him, and Jigen hadn’t come back yet. As much as Lupin enjoyed the hot water and the absence of responsibilities, he was growing bored.

He aimlessly splashed around for a few minutes, then proceeded to count all the rocks around the onsen, then pricked up his ears to try and listen to the conversations in the neighbouring pools, to no avail. Eventually, he remembered the existence of the women’s onsen. Fujiko was there, unless she had left early. And even if she wasn’t there, at this time of night, the place couldn’t be empty.

He smiled mischievously, and pulled himself out of the water.

“I’m gonna take a walk around, move my legs a bit,” he said to Goemon, who had opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at him. “Stay put while I’m gone, will ya?”

The samurai looked him up and down.

“At least put a towel on,” he declared, before closing his eyes again and sinking down a few centimetres into the water.

Lupin winked and raised his thumb, before scuttling away, towel-less.

He tiptoed around the other pools, careful to stay in the shadows and not make any noise, until he reached the fence separating the two sides of the onsen. There was steam rising up above the wooden screen, and he could hear muffled chatter and laughter coming from the other side. He crouched down, inspecting the fence to look for holes in the wood, and stuck his eye to the first one he found – only to be met with a cover of green leaves on the other side. Undeterred, he stood back up and looked around.

It didn’t take him long to find a tree and start climbing it, and immediately regret not having put at least _some_ clothes back on. But for Fujiko, he was prepared to do anything.

He finally reached a strong and steady branch poking just above the fence, and tried his best to creep along it without falling off. Just as he had expected, there was a group of four – no, five women, relaxing lazily in the hot spring, and chatting absentmindedly, completely unaware of the thief carefully balancing on the branch above them. He finally spotted Fujiko, at the exact same moment she spotted him as well. She threw him a look that was half disappointment, half unfazed, and he smiled and waved at her. He shouldn’t have closed his eyes though, because the next thing he knew was a bar of soap hitting him square in the face.

Well. So much for romantically gazing at his loved one from across an uncrossable border, he thought with a dash of amusement, as he lay on his back in the grass, staring at the stars and trying to ignore the terrible ache in his back. Ah, what you wouldn’t do for love…

///

Lupin was sitting in the middle of the living room, cross-legged on the tatami floor, staring intently at a small book in his hand and muttering to himself. There wasn’t a single sound in the house, save for the rustling of the wind in the leaves against the paper pane windows, and the distant gurgling of a spring behind the house. Neither of which Lupin paid any attention to. They were natural, constant noises, and he had tuned them out soon after he and Goemon had arrived in the village of Iya, and he had gotten used to his new surroundings. This house in the mountains was a perfect place to hide and lie low for a while, and Lupin was grateful that Goemon had offered it as a safe-house. Especially considering how personal the place was to the samurai.

Unfortunately, there was not much to do in this tiny village in the middle of nowhere, and Lupin was growing bored. Hence the book, and the go board set out in front of him.

He pulled a black stone from the wooden bowl, and set it down on the board with a loud click. Then he flipped a few pages in his book, eyebrows frowned in intense concentration.

“So if I place this one at _komoku_ …” he muttered to himself, before pulling a white stone and setting it on the board besides the black one. “That means the opponent can have _sente_ , and then make an eye…” He then took the white stone back and placed it in a corner of the board, before flipping through half of the book.

“Crap,” he said, with feeling.

He let the book fall down on the tatami floor beside him, threw his head back and sighed heavily.

“Is everything alright, Lupin-dono?” came a voice from the door.

The thief looked up, to find Goemon standing in the doorframe, Zantetsuken in one hand and a small bag in the other. His long black hair was wet and slightly dripping onto his kimono; suggesting that that he had just come back from a meditation session under the waterfall near the house.

“Yeeeaaaah…” he sighed. “Just this game driving me nuts. But I’ll get it eventually!”

“With a lot of practice, I am certain you will,” the samurai nodded and stepped into the room. He went to set his bag down in a corner. “Have you had news from Jigen-san yet?”

Lupin shook his head.

“Nah, but he and Fujicakes are supposed to call us tonight. Man, how I envy him. At least he’s stuck somewhere warm and nice, and with Fujiko no less…”

“It is not that cold here, you know.”

“Sure, but it’s boring… There’s nothing to do in these damn mountains. I can’t even steal anything.”

“I would appreciate it if you refrained from kleptomania, Lupin-dono. I have a reputation here,” Goemon declared with a stern face. “As for boredom…”

“Yes?”

Goemon seemed to ponder on something for a moment, before he resumed speaking.

“I was about to head to the dojo. Would you like to accompany me?”

Not even had Goemon said the word “dojo” that Lupin had jumped to his feet.

“Sure, I’d love that! I’ve always wanted to learn the Jito-style sword techniques!”

“I cannot teach you that, Lupin-dono,” Goemon protested as his partner joined him at the door, jumping excitedly. “They are secret techniques of the Iga ninja, and...”

“Pleeaaase? Just the basics! I already know a bit of aikido, but I need to get better in case we ever run into other swordsmen!”

“It is my duty to protect you from them.”

“But you won’t always be by my side, as much as I’d love that, Goemon-chan…”

The samurai sighed in defeat.

“Fine. I shall teach you some basic moves.”

Lupin punched the air, and followed his friend outside.

The dojo was at the heart of Iya. The village was tiny, too small even to be on any maps of the region, according to Goemon, and the dojo and its martial arts masters were the only thing of interest for most people in the area. It had become the main place of social gathering in the village, and it was no surprise to find a few people sitting on the side lines, outside of the tatami, chatting together and absentmindedly watching the martial artists practice. Several people greeted Goemon by name, and bowed their head at him and Lupin. One man in particular, an old man wearing a worn-out aikido outfit, walked up to them, and respectfully bowed down to the two newcomers.

“Ishikawa-sensei! It is a pleasure to see you! We didn’t know you were in town!”

Goemon bowed down in return.

“I only arrived yesterday. Please, let me introduce to you my partner, Lupin the Third. Lupin-dono, this is Uchida-sensei, the owner of the Iya dojo.”

“Pleasure to meet you!” Lupin replied and bowed down as well. “Hey Goemon,” he added after pulling his friend aside, “didn’t you say no one would know we’re here?”

“I may be well known around Iya, but rest assured that knowledge of our presence will not leave the village,” Goemon replied. “The people around here do not travel much. You are safe.”

Lupin sighed in relief.

“Good. I wouldn’t want to ruin your hideout.”

Goemon nodded, then handed his bag to Lupin.

“You cannot fight in a suit. There are changing rooms over there.”

The thief thanked him, and headed to where his partner had been pointing. He didn’t hold much hope of learning any secret ninja techniques today, but if he could at least alleviate the boredom of hiding in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, that would be that. It was easier with Goemon around. He was good company; and while he may not be the most talkative, he had proven to be a fascinating man when you managed to start a conversation. And that was a challenge on its own for Lupin.

When he came back to the dojo, Goemon was fighting a young man in hand-to-hand combat – Lupin wasn’t quite sure if it was karate or jiu jitsu, but either way, Goemon was _really_ good at it. The young man didn’t stand a chance. He didn’t seem to mind that, however, and respectfully bowed to the samurai and thanked him after their fight ended with him falling ass first on the tatami. This was far from the usual explosions of strength that Lupin had witnessed from Goemon, but it was impressive in its own way.

The thief only realised that he was smiling dreamily when his friend walked up to him and handed him a blunt katana.

“Show me your katas.”

Lupin weighed the sword, and swung it around experimentally, before tucking it in his belt and turning to his friend.

“My what now?”

“Your katas. Movement sequences. If you have studied aikido, you must know a few, do you not?”

“Oh, _that_!” Lupin exclaimed. “My dad forced me to learn some as a kid, but I’ve mostly forgotten them. I know how to fight someone, though.”

Goemon sighed, and shook his head.

“I suppose I will have to take everything from the start, then.”

Saying that the next three hours were exhausting would have been an understatement. Saying that it was the best time Lupin had spent with Goemon in ages would also be one. For three hours, he attacked, parried, jabbed, slashed, feinted, and fell on his arse more times than he could count. And every time, Goemon helped him back up and challenged him again. In the end, Lupin had learned much more than he had expected, although he would be hard pressed to say what exactly. But what was most important was the glint of pride in Goemon’s eyes.

“You are a student with great potential,” the samurai told him as Lupin handed him his katana back. “It is a shame you never learned martial arts properly as a child.”

“Ah, well,” Lupin shrugged, “Dad was more about firearms and strategy. Sword fighting isn’t exactly part of the typical thief’s curriculum. But that’s why I’ve got you! The best of the best!”

A light blush crept on Goemon’s cheeks when Lupin tapped him in the back. The thief couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“Thank you, Lupin-dono.”

They left the dojo, and took the trail that led to Goemon’s house, on the outskirts of the village. They passed by a flock of small children, who greeted him with enthusiastic shouts of “Samurai-san!”, to Lupin’s delight and Goemon’s embarrassment. He did accept to stop for a minute though, and gave the kids a demonstration of his technique. The two men left under the applause and shouts of glee from the children.

As soon as they got home, Goemon headed to the kitchen, leaving Lupin to his own device. The thief walked aimlessly around the living room, then picked a book off a shelf and plopped down on the tatami floor. The title was _Kawari Kaden Hisho_ ; it didn’t ring any bell with Lupin, but he found out quickly that it was about ikebana, the art of flower arrangement - one of Goemon’s hobbies. He started skimming through it absentmindedly, simply admiring the etchings while his mind raced away on completely different topics.

From the kitchen came the sound of water being boiled and ceramics being handled, and a few minutes later, Goemon walked in with a tray supporting a steaming teapot and two ceramic bowls.

“I made some green tea,” he announced, as if Lupin hadn’t already noticed.

“Thanks, pal. Say, how long do you think we’ll be staying here?”

Goemon sat down beside Lupin, crossing his legs as if preparing for meditation.

“I cannot say. Jigen-san is supposed to keep an eye on the situation. He will tell us when he thinks it is safe to leave.”

The thief rested his chin in his palm, and looked at his friend as he silently sipped his tea, cupping the heavy raku bowl with both hands. Goemon and Jigen were getting along well lately, and it made Lupin happy to see them work together. The well-oiled machine of their little gang was powered by camaraderie, adventure, the adrenaline in their veins when they chased a treasure; not by money or by professional relationships. Yet Goemon still seemed reluctant to let go of his iron-strong professionalism.

“It’s still Jigen-san, isn’t it?” the thief asked, staring intently at his partner. “With all the time you’ve been spending together, I thought you’d have taken the honorifics down a notch by now.”

Goemon frowned ever so slightly, and his relaxed face became closed off.

“It is a mark of respect. Jigen-san is a skilled warrior and a precious ally.”

“I thought you were friends,” Lupin said, almost offhandedly.

“And do you suggest I should disrespect my friends?”

“That’s not what I said!”

Lupin was on the defensive, but relaxed a bit when he realised that Goemon was only asking a rhetorical question. The samurai calmly sipped his tea, not eager to add anything else.

“I just meant that it’s a bit formal for people you spend most of your free time with,” the thief insisted.

“I am not as close to Jigen-san as you are, Lupin-dono,” Goemon replied. “Calling him, or you, by only your name would be inappropriate, and I do not want to be rude.”

“He grew up in New York, man, he won’t mind.”

“But I would. Friendship does not equate to familiarity.”

“So we’re your friends?”

Lupin hadn’t expected that question to send Goemon into deep reflexion. But now there he was, still as a statue, eyebrows slightly frowned, staring into his bowl of green tea as if the final teachings of Buddha were hidden within it.

“I work for you,” Goemon finally replied. “While I appreciate and relish the friendliness that you and Jigen-san show towards me, my role is to help you and protect you. Any feelings I have towards you are irrelevant to my work.”

“We’re not working right now.”

“So?”

“So my question remains. Are we your friends?”

Goemon was still not looking at Lupin when he replied, and he there was something in his expression that looked like embarrassment, or nervousness.

“I would like to think so.”

Lupin crossed his arms.

“Then why do you insist on calling me Lupin-dono?”

The samurai finally turned to him, looking like Lupin had just asked why one plus one made two.

“Because you are my employer, and I owe you respect and deference.”

Aaaand there it was. Lupin hadn’t really needed to ask; he already knew the answer to his question. Goemon’s loyalty to him was more than simply professionalism. It ran much deeper than that. How Goemon had grown from wanting to kill Lupin, to considering him like his lord and master, was anybody’s guess. It wasn’t very surprising; Lupin was perfectly aware that most people either idolized him, or wanted to see his guts aired out in a tree.

But Goemon…

Goemon’s devotion was something Lupin had a hard time understanding. The samurai was an amazing warrior, a high-class thief, and a brilliant mind. That he would still hold Lupin so high above himself baffled the thief. And saddened him, too.

“See, that’s where you’ve got it wrong, Goemon. I’m not your boss. We’re partners.”

The samurai frowned.

“But… You are the thinking head of this group, the one who gives us orders. You are the master thief, we are but the armed hands.”

“Just because I’m the brains, doesn’t mean I’m more important than the arms, you know.”

“Well…”

“Alright, sure, I guess I’m the leader,” Lupin conceded. “But I’m not your master. You don’t need one.”

“I…”

Goemon went silent. Lupin watched him as he stared into his bowl, watching the leaves flutter around in the hot water, while he thought his partner’s words over. Lupin could almost hear the gears turning in his mind, weighing the ups and downs and the meaning of their relationship.

After what seemed like hours of silence, Goemon sighed softly.

“Alright. I suppose you are right, Lupin-san.”

Lupin leaned down and patted Goemon’s arm.

“Come on, I’m sure Lupin-kun is enough. I’d even respond to Lupin-chan, you know!”

The samurai groaned in frustration.

“Sometimes I wonder why I chose to follow you, of all people.”

“I think it’s my natural charisma. Or maybe my devilish handsomeness. Or my brilliant brain.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Butcha didn’t!”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is your regular dose of "Lupin is bi and oblivious". Yes I will say this every time, because it's always true. I had a tremendous amount of fun writing this chapter, I hope y'all will enjoy it as well!  
> Btw, chapters of this fic normally follow the "onsen scene + flashback" pattern, but I had five flashbacks and four characters, so this one just doesn't fit the pattern. Sorry.
> 
> A few warnings: this chapter contains graphic depictions of violence, blood and injuries, just a heads up if you don't like that. Also, hurt/no-comfort. Y'all are warned. (I mean I guess there's comfort but it comes before the hurt so it doesn't really count). Also, I have no medical knowledge and I have honestly no clue how to treat a bullet wound, I just extrapolated from what I read in other fics. If you get shot, call an ambulance, kids.

“I’m not coming with you.”

Lupin smiled discreetly. Ten minutes until Jigen changed his mind. No, five – the thief was feeling good about this one.

“Pleeaaase, Jigen-chan?” he cooed, knowing full well that this wouldn’t be enough to make the gunman budge. But this was just the preliminaries, the thief had more cards up his sleeve.

“Dammit, man, why would I want to help you steal an anniversary present for one of your girlfriends? For Fujiko, no less?”

“Because you loooove me?”

The gunman huffed, and pulled his hat even lower over his eyes, looking clearly disgruntled.

“Piss off. Just because we’re partners doesn’t mean I have to approve of every stupid thing you do.”

“You help me steal that tiara, and I’ll help you steal something for Goemon.”

There was a moment of silence, before Jigen pushed his hat up with one finger, and threw a perplexed look at Lupin.

“Huh? Why?”

“Well, it’s only fair, if you help me get a gift for the love of my life, that I do the same for you.”

The hat fell back down, and before Lupin had the time to say anything, a pillow landed in his face.

“Goemon and I aren’t a _thing,_ you idiot. You’re just jealous I spend more time hanging out with him than with you,” the gunman retorted, a hint of humour showing in his voice.

Lupin smiled a bit wider, knowing that Jigen couldn’t see it. His partner had gone from annoyed to amused, that was a good start.

“Maybe a bit.”

“You wouldn’t have to be jealous _if you spent less time chasing after friggin’ Fujiko,_ ” Jigen replied.

Ah, never mind then. The amusement was gone. Back to square one.

“Look who’s jealous _now._ ”

“I’m not _jealous_. I just wish you weren’t such a friggin’ moron.”

“I’m not a moron, I’m just in love.”

“Same difference.”

“C’mon, you know I love you too! You’re my best friend! And I couldn’t do this heist without my partner by my side.”

“Then don’t do the goddamn heist, you idiot.”

Lupin gasped loudly, and brought his hand to his chest.

“You are telling _me_ , the great Lupin the Third, not to do a heist? You’re aware that this is the best way to ensure I will do it, right?”

“Then go and do it, and don’t come crying when you get caught by Pops.”

Jigen turned around on the couch to have his back against Lupin. The thief smiled – again. All going according to plan.

“You have no heart, Jigen,” he sighed dramatically, before leaving the room.

He could hear his friend huffing behind him before he closed the door. It was a shame that Jigen held such a grudge against Fujiko, but he had to make do with that. No, correction: Jigen had a grudge against Lupin’s relationship with Fujiko. When the gang all worked together, the gunman’s exchanges with her were cordial, sometimes even bordering on friendly – if you excluded the distrust Jigen had for all women in general, and for this woman in particular. Lupin couldn’t fault him for that. Fujiko had a chronic backstabbing syndrome, and while the thief found it to be part of her charm, it was obvious that a man like Jigen wasn’t open-minded enough to fully appreciate the subtleties of a love like the one he shared with Fujiko.

Oh, and Fujiko had also personally betrayed Jigen an uncountable number of times, that certainly didn’t help. But all in all, they got along – it almost surprised Lupin sometimes.

He reached the car parked outside the house, and threw his duffle bag in the boot. He sat in the driver’s seat and turned on the CD reader. The disk that was already inside started playing _Une Jolie Fleur_ by Georges Brassens, making him smile with amusement. He leaned back comfortably in his seat, looked at his wrist watch, and started to wait.

Five minutes had almost passed when the front door of the house loudly slammed, then the gravel of the alleyway crunched under a pair of booted feet. Lupin looked up into the rear-view mirror and smiled. Just on time.

“Where are we going?” Jigen asked, as he slipped in the passenger seat.

“Morocco,” Lupin cheerfully replied. “The villa Riad Miloud, home of the El Asri family. They have this wonderful gold tiara with sapphires on it, and a security system that’s basically a private militia.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“It’s only fun with you around.”

Lupin stepped on the gas, and the yellow Mercedes leapt forward. Beside him, Jigen took a pack of cigarettes out of his breast pocket, stuck one between his lips and turned to the thief.

“Want one?”

“If you’re offering.”

Lupin smiled and parted his lips, where Jigen stuck another cigarette. He leaned towards the gunman and let him light both of them. They were Marlboro Reds, not the brand Lupin favoured, but he didn’t dislike them half as much as he said he did. They tasted strong, like adventure, like freedom, and like Jigen.

///

“Okay, remind me where we start, again?”

Lupin stole the last slice of pizza from under Jigen’s hand, and immediately stuffed it whole inside his mouth, under the gunman’s murderous glare – or, to be precise, the murderous brim of his hat.

“Ya shnahp jah fahf flah wadah frahm jah-“

“Fiiine. Finish eating and THEN remind me where we start,” Jigen sighed.

Lupin closed his mouth, a victorious smile – somewhat distorted by the gargantuan amount of food inside – painted on his lips. There were a few seconds of silence only troubled by laborious mastication, then Lupin started talking again.

“The El Asri patriarch is throwing a party tonight – despite the calling card I sent. We’ll take advantage of the agitation to sneak in unnoticed and snatch the jewels in plain view at exactly midnight. They’re on display in the treasure room – these guys have a whole room just for their family trinkets, they’re basically begging for me to rob them. The house will be full of guests, so we’ll make a distraction to take away everyone’s attention while I snatch the tiara. And then… we run!”

Jigen snickered.

“It sounds awfully simple when you put it like that.”

“It is,” the master thief retorted. “All these heists are the same, they just have varying levels of security to get past, but all in all, most of these rich farts don’t have much imagination.”

“You’ve done heists harder than this one,” Jigen pointed out. “Some of them actually give you your money’s worth. They make a point of that.”

“Yeah, well. This is just a routine hit and run to keep my muscles running. And Fujiko really, _really_ wants that tiara.”

The gunman slouched down into his chair and stuck an unlit cigarette between his lips.

“I don’t get why you need me for this, then.”

Lupin crossed his hands in front of his face and rested his chin on them, and smiled at his partner.

“Well, first of all it wouldn’t be as fun on my own.”

“Tch. As if.”

“I mean it. And second, I said I needed you to ensure our escape route.”

“About that,” Jigen pointed out, “that’s the part you didn’t explain. How can I make us escape if I’m inside with you?”

“Ah, I forgot,” Lupin exclaimed. “Before we go in, you’re going to shoot a grappling hook onto the window on the top floor of the riad. We’re going to need a cable to slide out. There’s an office building not too far away that will be perfect for landing. Once that’s done, you’ll join me inside.”

“That makes more sense,” Jigen admitted. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier, though? I won’t have time to scout out the place before we go.”

“Already took care of that, pal!” Lupin replied cheerfully. “Where do you think I’ve been disappearing all this week?”

“Hitting every club in town trying to flirt with the locals?” Jigen suggested in a deadpan tone.

“Hey! You know I keep work and fun separate!”

“When have you ever.”

Lupin rolled his eyes and didn’t reply, knowing full well that he couldn’t win this argument, for lack of… well, being right. Instead, he jumped to his feet and offered his friend a beaming smile.

“Alright, suit up, partner! We’ve got a party to get ready for!”

Jigen looked down on his expensive but tired three-piece suit.

“I’m already suited up, boss.”

“This old thing? It’s perfect for lounging at home or running away from the police, but not for a five-star party at a millionaire’s vacation house.”

“I thought running away from the police was exactly our plans for the evening?”

“Yes, but first I’m taking you on a date.”

The look of utter bafflement on Jigen’s face was a delight to watch. His near-death experience as he started choking on his glass of water, not so much, and Lupin eventually took pity and came around to give him a few strong taps on the back.

“You okay, mate?”

“Date???” Jigen eventually spat out as soon as he recovered speech.

“Relax, it’s only pretend! You don’t have to get on your high horse.”

“What do you mean, _date?_ ” Jigen insisted, a bit calmer.

“Well, we’re gonna need an excuse to get into this party, right?” the thief explained.

He had assumed this was obvious, but now that he thought about it, it would have made more sense if there had been a woman on the heist.

“Please tell me I’m not gonna have to do drag again…” the gunman grunted.

“Welllll… It would be easier, but I figured that between posing as a couple and shaving your beard, you’d choose the lesser of two evils.”

“Yeah. What you said.”

“Great!” Lupin exclaimed. “Your suit’s in the dresser in your bedroom.”

And with that, he turned on his heels and made his way to his own bedroom, more prancing than walking. This heist was going to be fun. Lupin didn’t do many jobs at parties, or at least not parties that he himself was taking part in. Usually, at best he hid among the security guards until his moment of glory, at worst he crawled through the vents with a flashlight between his teeth. And with a bit of luck, he might even make Jigen have fun too. At least _he_ didn’t have to pretend to be into men. Lupin might have to ask him for some pointers, to avoid acting weird. Or would that be inconsiderate? He tried to imagine himself sitting in the car, casually asking Jigen “so, how do I not look like a straight man?”. He silently snickered as he pictured his friend’s face, but it was clear a question like this one would lead nowhere except to a grumpy gunman, so he gave up on the idea.

His own suit was laid out on his bed, beside a messy pile of gadgets that would probably not fit inside the tailored pockets but that he would try to stuff in there regardless. He had chosen a white double-breasted suit with matching trousers and waistcoat, and a red bowtie to add a splash of colour. This was far removed from his usual flamboyant (and awfully obnoxious, according to everyone else) suits and ties, but for a formal party it would be perfect.

In an instant he was out of his clothes, only keeping his trademark striped boxers on – if he ended up naked during the heist, for one reason or another, he needed people to still recognize him. Then he carefully slipped on the tailored suit, making sure that everything fell into place. A few minutes in the adjacent bathroom and he came back out with perfectly slicked back hair and smelling of expensive cologne. He then proceeded to stuff as many gadgets into his suit, hidden pockets, shirt collar, socks and underwear as the laws of physics would allow. As a final touch, he carefully slipped on a fake wedding band. Now, the illusion was complete.

He looked at himself in the mirror, turned around a few times, tentatively extended his arms and did a few squats, then threw his most charming smile at his reflexion.

Perfect.

He then took off half of the outfit when he suddenly realised he had forgotten to put on his gun holster.

He walked back into the living room, and did a double take when he found Jigen leaning against the back of the couch, cigarette hanging between his lips and hat pulled low over his eyes.

Lupin took a sharp breath.

Damn.

It wasn’t going to be very hard to pretend.

The tailored jet-black suit fit Jigen like a glove. It looked as if he had been born to wear it. The jacket underlined the shape of his torso and his strong shoulders, while the tight shirt hugged the curve of his puffed chest, making him seem even more intimidating than usual. But in a very fancy, and resolutely _sexy_ way. A black hat sat atop his head, almost a replica of the battered one he always wore, but brand new, and the same deep black as his suit. It almost blended in with the colour the gunman’s hair, which was artfully bound into a loose bun just above his nape.

Lupin put on his best smile, the one he had rehearsed in the mirror, and confidently strode towards his partner.

“Looking good, Daisuke darling,” he complimented the gunman, before reaching out to straighten his bowtie – the same deep red as his own.

Jigen recoiled ever so slightly, probably taken aback by the sudden closeness. Was it just Lupin’s imagination, or were his friend’s cheeks a bit redder than usual?

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Jigen retorted, and this time Lupin couldn’t simply blame his imagination for the hotness that filled his body, at the sound of his friend’s husky voice, and the caress of his warm breath on his face.

Hang on. Caress? Husky? Lupin internally scolded himself. He was taking this “not straight” act a bit too seriously. If things kept going this way, he’d be making out with his best friend in the back of the car before the party had even started.

To regain his composure, he suddenly poked Jigen’s stomach and snatched his hat, playfully putting it on his own head before turning on his heels.

“Am I gonna wear this while I climb on a dusty rooftop with a rifle,” Jigen asked from his spot on the couch, “or did you just make me try it on to admire my butt?”

“Your call,” Lupin replied, still leaning against the wall and desperately trying to look cool and composed. “You can always change back in the car, I guess.”

“It’s an open-top, moron.”

“Your butt isn’t _that_ great, you know. People won’t look.”

“Tch. Anyways, you ready to go?”

Lupin patted his pockets, making sure that all his tools of the trade were in their places; and most importantly, his forged invitation for the party for Mr and Mr Edgar and Isidore Mine safely tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I am if you are.”

Jigen swung his legs off the couch and stood up, a mischievous grin twisting his lips.

“Then let’s go.”

///

Once again, Lupin found himself sitting on his own in the Mercedes, watching the minutes pass by one after the other, and looking at his watch so often that the second hand barely had time to move. He was itching to put his feet on the dashboard, but restrained himself – he’d have to polish it afterwards, and then he wouldn’t have the moral high ground to scold Jigen for doing it anymore.

Jigen.

What _was_ he doing?

Lupin had dropped him off some distance from the nearly empty office building that he had staked out the week before, and given him his last instructions. By now, he should have already installed the cable between the riad’s top floor and their escape roof, and come back to where the thief was waiting. Lupin glared daggers at his wrist watch, then stared off into the distance. The night had fallen already, but the stars weren’t out yet, and anyways none of them were visible from the city, what with the glowing lights of the night life. After this, it would be nice to take a vacation somewhere far away from the city, where he could admire the night sky. He’d take Fujiko along. Yes, that would be brilliant. A star-gazing date with his love…

A knock on the car door drew him out of his reverie. Jigen was standing above him, his arm casually resting atop the roofless window, a charming grin on his lips. The grappling-hook-throwing rifle was nowhere to be seen, he must have left it on the rooftop, and he was already wearing his suit. Seeing that Lupin had noticed him, the gunman took a step back and opened the door.

“May I help you out, m’lord?” he playfully offered, and extended his hand to the thief.

Lupin gladly took it and climbed out of the car.

“You know, I’m supposed to be the chivalrous one here,” he reminded his friend with a dash of amusement. “I’m French, after all.”

“Oh please,” Jigen retorted. “We both know who’s wearing the pants in this relationship.”

Lupin’s eyes went wide with surprise when his friend turned towards him, a blood-red rose delicately held between two fingers. The gunman leaned down, and carefully tucked it in the thief’s lapel.

“Here you go.”

He then extended his arm, and Lupin took a deep breath. Alright. If they were going to do this, he had better do it well. And not think too hard about how natural this act felt.

He slipped his arm in his partner’s and smiled.

“You’re the best.”

Jigen smiled without looking at the thief.

“I know.”

It didn’t take them long by foot to reach El Asri’s riad. The luxurious villa stood in a frame of exotic trees and carefully mowed lawns, and was brightly lit by a few expertly placed spotlights. The gates to the garden were wide open, as were the doors of the house itself; but it wasn’t open bar either. The doors were well guarded by a small swarm of waiters, who could no doubt turn into fierce security guards should the situation require it. Lupin and Jigen paid them no mind, perfectly playing their roles of snobbish guests with nothing to reproach themselves for and nothing to fear.

One of the guards at the door looked the couple up and down when they arrived, and if he was surprised, he did a great job at hiding it. That was a good thing; Jigen might have punched his teeth in otherwise, that was what he usually did. Although… today the gunman perfectly looked the part, a rich and distinguished man who just happened to be married to another man, and didn’t care the slightest bit about what a low-life like that waiter might think of it.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” the man said with a respectful nod. “May I see your invitation, please?”

“But of course,” Lupin replied obsequiously with a thick French accent. He drew the card out of his pocket and handed it to the guard. The man inspected it, before nodding again.

“Have a nice evening, sirs,” he said and handed Lupin the card back.

The thief hid it again and turned on his heels, before walking inside, arm in arm with his “husband”. Another steward guided them to the reception room, and finally left them to their own device.

The room was already filled with many guests – Lupin had of course managed to arrive fashionably late. The place was buzzing with the sort of soft excitement you only find in this type of high-society reception; where everyone is swapping pieces of gossip, judging each-others’ dresses and waiting for the house master to show up. Lupin felt completely in his element. This was a world of charisma, appearances, and people wearing carefully crafted masks over their true intentions. The perfect playground for a master of disguise – both literal and metaphorical.

“Oooooh! They’ve got caviar canapés!” Lupin suddenly exclaimed.

He let go of Jigen’s arm and immediately made a beeline for the buffet, swimming through the crowd like a koi fish up a waterfall. Not only were there caviar canapés, but also piping hot lamb samosas, and five different kinds of mint tea. Lupin remembered at the last second who he was posing as, and restrained himself from stuffing a whole plate’s worth of pâtés inside his mouth.

“Careful, or you’ll get a heart burn.”

Lupin smiled upon recognizing his partner’s baritone voice behind him. He turned around, a glass in each hand.

“Fancy some champagne, my love?”

Jigen pulled a face, but took the glass nonetheless and forced himself to take a sip.

“Urgh. This tastes like sparkly piss,” he muttered under his voice. “How do people of the upper crust drink this crap?”

“They don’t have your taste in fine whiskeys, dear. Be careful not to get drunk before the end of the party.”

The gunman snorted.

“With this plonk? Not a chance.”

He looked around him at the assembled partygoers, all in fancy suits and designer dresses, then turned back towards his partner.

“It’s a long time ‘til midnight. What do we do now?”

Lupin smiled, and a spark lit up in his eyes.

“Now? We _mingle_.”

And mingle they did. While Lupin was more used than his partner to the subtleties of etiquette and party niceties, Jigen was actually doing his share of social duties. Lupin watched his temporary boyfriend – no, husband, he reminded himself as he fidgeted with the gold band on his finger – as he moved through the crowd, greeted men and courteously bowed his head at women. Surprisingly, the gunman seemed to have a lot of success among the ladies. Before long, he found himself surrounded by a flock of smiling and giggling young women in shiny dresses and fancy hairdos, bombarding him with questions and complimenting his looks. If Jigen was uncomfortable, he did a great job at hiding it, politely smiled back and answered all their questions, which Lupin couldn’t hear. The thief watched with amusement his partner chat with his admirers for a little while, then decided it was time for him to play his part.

Lupin put on his most charming smile and slalomed among the crowd until he reached his partner.

“Excuse me, Miladies,” he called out as he shimmied between them to stand next to Jigen and possessively grab his arm, “but Mr Mine is already taken.”

He made sure that his wedding band was well into view, and smiled inwardly when one of the ladies noticed it and pulled a face.

“We were simply asking him how he keeps his beard so soft,” one of the young women justified herself, but her friends were already starting to scatter, and she quickly followed suit.

“How _do_ you keep your beard so soft, dear?” Lupin asked and cocked his head to the side.

“Castor oil,” Jigen replied. “They weren’t doing anything bad, ya know.”

“Besides bothering my dear husband and trying to make him stray from the path of fidelity?”

“You know they don’t stand a chance next to you.”

There was an air of pride in the smile Jigen offered him. What a great actor he was, Lupin thought. It almost seemed as if he wasn’t pretending at all.

As they were walking away, the music suddenly ended, and the band started playing a new song. Lupin recognized the first few notes of Yuji Ohno’s _Love Squall_ , and smiled. A slow dance. Perfect. He took a small step back and extended a hand towards Jigen.

“May I have this dance?”

Jigen smiled back, and took his hand.

“You may.”

He expertly pulled the thief closer in one swift movement, ending up with Lupin held tight against his chest.

“Do you even know how to dance a slow?” the gunman murmured into his ear.

“Who do you take me for?” Lupin retorted on the same tone. “That’s the basics, flirting 101!”

“I meant, with a guy.”

The thief barely hesitated before answering.

“Well, it can’t be very different. And I’m sure you can teach me.”

He hadn’t lied when he had said that he knew how to slow dance, but having always done it with a woman, Lupin had always been the leader by default. However, it seemed like Jigen had no intention of letting him steal the spotlight, at least where thievery wasn’t concerned. The gunman led the dance with an expert hand – or rather, foot - as if he had done it all his life. Lupin couldn’t imagine him dancing with a woman, unless under duress, but then when had he ever had the occasion to slow-dance with another man? The thief made a mental note to ask his friend about it later. In the meantime, he let himself be lead around, strangely enjoying the feeling of not being in control, for once. But that was only because he trusted Jigen; he probably wouldn’t have agreed to do this with anyone else.

Lupin chuckled. This was only dancing, not some life-or-death situation on a dangerous heist. Why was it so important?

“What is it?” Jigen asked, probably raising an eyebrow under his hat.

“Nothing.”

They kept pacing slowly along to the soft music, and Lupin let himself forget why they were there for a moment. This was a welcome respite, and Jigen’s arms around him were comforting, a grounding presence that reminded him nothing could happen to him, as long as his right-hand man was by his side. That was why he had taken Jigen along, after all: he trusted no one more than the gunman to protect him.

Eventually, the song ended, and another, more upbeat and energic, started. Jigen took a step back, almost regretfully, and let go of Lupin’s hand.

“Fun’s over, boss,” he said in a low voice to not be heard by the other dancers. “We got work to do.”

Lupin’s crooked and mischievous smile came back for a second, breaking through the mask.

“Damn right we do.”

Jigen’s grin shone through for a second as well, and he straightened his hat to put up a front. Lupin took his partner’s arm again, and they slowly drifted out of the dancing crowd and towards the exit of the ballroom.

The party kept going far outside the main reception hall. Without being packed as the ballroom was, the corridors and the various rooms all had a few guests walking around, standing and chatting, holding hands, or not so discreetly making out in darkened corners. Lupin recalled the map of the villa he had memorised earlier. The exhibition room, where the Al Asri family kept their valuable jewels, artifacts and assorted trinkets, was on the third floor, the one at the top of the house. If Jigen had done his job right – and Lupin knew he had - there should be a discreet steel cable safely tied to one of the roof decorations, just above the bay window. He didn’t need to check, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to see it anyways, the whole point was for their escape route to be invisible to all but them, and only at moment they needed it.

They reached their target just as Lupin’s wrist watch indicated five to midnight. There were few people there, mostly old men and young women, the former trying to impress the latter with their knowledge of the jewels and artifacts. Lupin slowly paced around the room, pretending to admire the pieces on display, but out of the corner of his eyes he was surveying only one of them. He smiled a knowing smile when he finally reached the glass case containing the golden tiara Fujiko had her eyes on. Lupin hadn’t told Jigen, but part of the goal of this heist was to steal it before she could – a gift and a jab at the same time. The jewels encased in the finely crafted volutes of metal shone like a galaxy under the carefully placed spotlights. Lupin could already see them reflect in his lover’s eyes, and imagine the ecstatic smile painting her lips as she would put it on.

Jigen leaned over his shoulder, one hand on the small of his back, pretending to be admiring the jewels.

“One minute to showtime, boss,” he murmured in Lupin’s ear, making the thief shiver with anticipation.

This was the best part of any heist. The rush of adrenaline as the moment drew near, the seconds during which his plan appeared, all laid out in front of his eyes, down to the smallest detail – while not knowing what might happen in the next second and throw him off balance. This was the tipping point of any robbery, the moment of truth.

A mischievous smile stretched Lupin’s lips. Somewhere outside the villa, a clock started striking midnight.

Then all hell broke loose.

///

It would have been nearly impossible to follow the chaos as it happened, but in retrospect, Lupin could more or less pinpoint when things had gone wrong.

And ooh boy had they gone wrong.

The clock struck midnight, and in the same instant, Lupin whipped out several smoke bombs from his suit jacket and launched them across the room. He and Jigen were crowded against the glass case, far enough away that the smoke didn’t hinder them; but the unfortunate bystanders were all coughing their lungs out and screaming for help. Lupin knelt in front of the glass case. He knew he only had minutes to unlock it, before security came to get him. An array of lockpicking tools appeared between his fingers, almost as if by magic, and he set to work. Behind him, he could vaguely hear the panicked guests running around, looking for a fire alarm, and Jigen pushing away a brave one who was trying to get at the thief. Lupin didn’t pay them any mind, preferring to leave the defence to Jigen, and concentrated all his focus on the meticulous process of pushing and pulling inside the lock. This was one of the most secure padlocks on the market, but it was up against the greatest thief of the century, armed with state-of-the-art tools and an iron will. After a few seconds of harsh fighting, the lock surrendered with a faint _click_ , and Lupin smiled. He reached out to open the case –

“DUCK!” came a loud shout behind him – Jigen’s voice, Lupin recognized it as he threw himself on the ground, and a swarm of bullets flew above him. They embedded themselves in the reinforced glass casing, just where the thief’s head had been seconds ago.

Seconds.

He had had _seconds_ before security showed up, not minutes.

Ah, well. The downsides of sending calling cards.

From what he could guess, judging by the sounds, a group of armed men had burst into the room and opened fire through the smoke, not caring about the guests scattered across the room and whimpering on the floor. Jigen was doing his best to fend them off, and thankfully he and Lupin had the tiara’s pedestal standing between them and the security guards. But he knew that shield wouldn’t last long, especially now that the smoke was starting to clear.

Lupin’s brain had switched a gear and was now running at a hundred miles per hour.

The case was unlocked but closed, and the tiara was still inside. He and Jigen were temporarily hidden. They had two guns among themselves, a flash bomb or two, a grappling hook and wire in Lupin’s wrist watch, a few more gadgets that were irrelevant to the situation, and half a dozen innocent bystanders. The escape cable was right outside the window, but if they used it while security was still here and armed, they’d be sitting ducks. And Lupin refused to leave without his mark.

Jigen ducked down behind the pedestal and frantically started reloading his Magnum.

“Got a plan, Lupin?” he asked as the thief pulled out his Walther.

“I’ve got the P and a part of the L,” Lupin retorted. “I’m working on the rest.”

He poked his head and shoulders out from behind the pedestal, and expertly shot the weapons out of the hands of two of the guards, before ducking back into safety as a bullet whizzed past his head. He swore under his breath. There were ten of them, thankfully blocking each other at the door for now. No doubt more were coming.

Alright. First step, retrieve the tiara. Second step, get the hell out of here before one of those dimwits got lucky and managed to hit the mark. Lupin took a deep breath and slowly reached both hands up towards the glass case; then in one swift movement, he snapped the locks open and pushed the glass upwards. The guards immediately started shooting at the sudden noise and movement, but the glass casing shielded Lupin as it fell. He snatched the headdress and swiftly slipped it inside his suit jacket, before crouching back down behind the pedestal. Jigen was still poking his head out and shooting every now and then to keep the guards away. Lupin turned towards his partner.

“Now, we run!”

Without waiting for an answer, he sprang up like a jack in a box and made a run for the window.

And stopped dead in his tracks when the second door to the room, supposedly locked, burst open to reveal another squad of armed men.

They opened fire.

Lupin’s ears were ringing. His eyes stung from the remnants of smoke permeating the air. Somehow, his mind focused on Jigen cursing behind him rather than on anything useful. The scene slowed down, as the adrenaline pushed his brain to its highest capacities.

Cable. Window. Guns. Distance. Jigen. Protecting. Glass shards. Jigen. Guns.

Guns.

Jigen _._

_Blood._

It seemed to him like the air was molasses. Everything slowed down as Lupin watched, eyes wide, the swarm of bullets flying towards him. Despite his prodigious reflexes and his training, he wasn’t fast enough to outrun a bullet. Or the world’s best gunman’s sixth sense.

Lupin fell backwards on the floor under the weight of his partner colliding with him. Reflexively, he held out his arms to hold on to Jigen and pull him aside, trying as best as he could to shield him from the gunshots.

The blood was starting to seep through Lupin's suit, bright red against the stark white fabric as he held his partner close. It was like that bullet had hit the thief after all, despite Jigen's sacrifice.

Lupin ignored the loud gunshots resonating in the room and the ringing in his ears, pulled out his Walther and finished what Jigen had started. He may be only second best behind his partner; but that, added to the sudden cocktail of rage and fear that had been injected into his veins, was far beyond enough to get rid of the immediate danger. Then he started to shoot almost blindly into the mass of uniform-wearing bodies that was starting to recoil; but even through the haze of sudden adrenaline, or maybe because of it, all of his bullets hit the mark. He’d stop to understand his emotions later, for now he needed to get Jigen out of here.

“You alright, bud?” the thief asked, forcing himself to put on a mask of calm and control.

His friend tried to smile, but it turned into a rictus of pain.

“Could be better,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

The two groups of guards, at first taken aback by the sudden outburst of violence, were starting to regroup, and suddenly a dozen or so armed men were lunging at the thieves.

Lupin caught hold of Jigen and forced him to stand. In a last, desperate move, he threw a flash-ball into the mass of his assailants, then shot one last bullet, up at the ceiling. The huge crystal chandelier that had been hanging above the centre of the room came crashing down, and while the guards were shielding their eyes and recoiling away from the mass of falling crystal, Lupin and Jigen made a run for it.

Even after they had reached the car and driven to safety, Lupin still wasn’t sure how they had managed to escape. Jigen should have been too weak to hold onto the handle and slide down, and Lupin probably couldn’t carry him. Probably. Yet they made it to safety, narrowly avoiding the last few bullets and angry shouts coming at them from the shattered window.

In a daze, Lupin supported the stumbling mass of his partner down the last few flights of stairs and into the car. There, he took off his jacket and tore a shred of fabric from his shirt, then started summarily bandaging Jigen’s wounds. The white fabric immediately gorged itself red, to Lupin’s despair.

“Ow, careful there…” Jigen winced as Lupin tightened the makeshift bandages.

“This will have to do,” the thief muttered, more for himself than for his partner. “I’ll get the bullets out later, but we need to leave now.”

Police sirens were already starting to wail in the distance, and Lupin pressed on the gas, making the engine roar and the car lurch forward. If only Goemon or Fujiko had been there with them, they could take care of Jigen’s wounds immediately…

“And for the love of God, try not to bleed out before we get there,” he added through gritted teeth. His knuckles were white against the black leather of the steering wheel, and he could feel every muscle in his body tensing almost to the point of rupture.

“I’ll do my best, boss… Wouldn’t want to dirty the leather seats,” Jigen replied weakly.

Lupin took a deep breath. That Jigen was still capable of humour was a good sign. If he had been on the edge of oblivion, he wouldn’t bother with snark. Or so Lupin imagined – he didn’t really know that yet, and he hoped he’d never have to find out.

The drive to the safe house seemed like hours to Lupin – probably because he took every detour and wrong turns possible to avoid running into any hypothetical police roadblock. The cops weren’t supposed to know where they were staying, but right now Lupin didn’t want to take any risks, not with Jigen’s life in his hands. Throughout the whole drive, he kept talking to him, asking him simple questions and making sure he stayed awake and alert. Despite the pain, the gunman didn’t drift off, and even managed to dig the first aid kit out from under one of the seat cushions, and stuff his face with painkillers. He couldn’t change the bandages himself though, and simply bit the bullet until the car finally parked in the driveway of the safe house.

“We’re there,” Lupin announced, more to fill the silence than to tell Jigen something he had already noticed.

Only a grunt came in response. Lupin climbed out of the car and walked around it to open the passenger door. Jigen was in a pitiful state. His face was pale and his eyes bloodshot, and his bandages were, unsurprisingly, drenched in blood.

“Can you stand?” Lupin asked, trying to hide the worry in his voice.

“If you help me? Maybe.”

Lupin leaned down and grabbed hold of Jigen, arduously pulling him up and onto his feet. The gunman’s legs were wobbly, but he clenched his teeth and took a few tentative steps, with the help of Lupin.

“I almost wish I couldn’t walk,” Jigen joked, “then you’d have to carry me bridal style…”

He burst into hysterical laughter, immediately interrupted by a fit of coughing.

“Careful,” Lupin softly scolded him.

They stumbled to the door of the house, Lupin half-carrying Jigen, and praying to all the gods he knew that the neighbours wouldn’t notice them. He fumbled with the keys for a moment, finally opened the door and nearly fell inside. He led Jigen to the living room’s couch, before going back on his steps to lock and barricade the door, and pull all the blinds on the windows.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he stepped back into the living room, carrying the medical kit he had fished out of a cupboard in the bathroom. Jigen was laying on the couch, eyes closed. For a second Lupin thought he had finally passed out.

“Like my insides are trying to fly away,” the gunman weakly replied.

“Let me see.”

Lupin knelt down next to the couch, and slowly untied the soaked bandages. Then, with utmost precaution, he cleaned the dried blood from Jigen’s chest, trying as much as possible to avoid hurting him. Jigen was wincing a bit, but didn’t say a word.

There were four bullet wounds, three in his chest and one in his stomach. The bleeding had stopped – for now – but Lupin knew that as soon as he removed the bullets, it would resume. From what he could see, they didn’t seem to have reached any vital organs, but it was hard to tell. Lupin grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and pressed a hand down on Jigen’s shoulder.

“This is going to hurt.”

“I know.”

Despite his brave words, Jigen couldn’t help but let out a wail of pain when his partner poured a generous amount of disinfectant on the bullet wounds. He then poured some on the tweezers he had grabbed from the kit, and set to work.

Jigen was trembling under his hands, and jolting every time the tweezers or the sewing needles poked at sensitive flesh. Lupin gritted his teeth and kept working. His friend’s agony went straight to his heart like a bullet, but he knew he had to hurt him now to get him out of further danger. Jigen knew it too.

Fuck.

This was a simple heist. It shouldn’t have gone wrong like that.

And what would have happened to him if Jigen hadn’t been there?

Lupin’s hands were steady, even though he felt like his whole body was trembling. In all the years he had worked with Jigen, rarely had either of them ever come this close. And even more rarely had Lupin felt so desperate upon seeing Jigen, prostrated and bloodied, his life seeping out from a myriad of holes. This was a risk in the life they lead, a very real risk. One he was willing to accept for himself… but not for his best friend.

When all was done, he put fresh bandages around Jigen’s wounds, then dropped the tweezers and the needles onto the kit and shoved it aside. He’d take care of that later.

Jigen looked slightly better – though better was maybe an overstatement, he simply didn’t look like he was going to pass out any second anymore. Lupin sighed and let his head rest on the edge of the couch. ~~~~

“You’re a moron,” he whispered.

Why had Jigen jumped in front of him? He could have warned him instead. Or shoved him aside. Anything… But no, that stubborn idiot had to take the bullets for him.

Lupin shivered when he felt the gunman’s hand touch his head. Jigen softly ruffled the thief’s short hair, and Lupin could almost hear the weak smile in his voice when he spoke.

“I’m not a moron. I’m just your partner.”

Lupin chuckled, but it was a hollow and joyless one. He should be the one comforting Jigen, not the other way around.

The thief took a deep breath, put on a brave face and stood up.

“Alright. All patched up! You’ll be back on your feet in no time. I’ll go and make you some food, okay?”

Jigen grunted.

“I’m not sure I can eat anything, man…”

“You need some energy or you’ll never heal, idiot. I’ll make you a miso soup.”

“The water’s just gonna come out of the holes like a colander…”

Lupin snorted, and smacked Jigen on the shoulder.

“Then I’ll simply have to put more tape on them.”

He softly closed the door of the living room and made his way to the kitchen. Miso soup wasn’t long to make, but at least this short time of focusing on his task helped Lupin stay grounded. He didn’t want his mind to start drifting off, because he knew exactly where it would go.

This had happened before. And yes, it hurt every time, and yes, every time he was scared for Jigen’s safety, and angry that someone would dare to touch what was his. But never to this extent.

Why was it that this time, he was so shaken by it?

As if this time, losing Jigen would have hurt even more.

As if this time, he would have had regrets.

Lupin slammed the door shut on the thoughts that were starting to bubble up and fill his mind. He didn’t need to go there. Not now. He had his friend to take care of, then he’d warn Fujiko and Goemon of what had happened, and he’d stay by Jigen’s side until he was back on his feet. Future heists could wait. Then he’d finally go on that stargazing date with Fujiko.

The golden tiara was still inside his bloodied and torn up suit jacket, he realised. It weighed like it was made of lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Love Squall comes from the Lupin III OST; I usually don't link the songs because you can easily find them through a Google search; but the English version of this one is HELLA HARD to find, so here you go: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqpnvq5MAkA
> 
> Once again, many thanks to J., my trusty beta, for going over this with me and correcting my mistakes. Please bear in mind that English isn't my first language ^^
> 
> Next chapter will be the last one of this first part.
> 
> Comments are appreciated! (read: absolutely loved and would make my whole week)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is the last chapter of this part - as I mentioned, this fic is cut into two separate parts. This is FujiGoe time! Because these two do not receive half of the attention they deserve from this fandom; and if I cannot find the content I want, then I will create it myself. 
> 
> That being said, Fujiko is a PAIN to write, I love her but DAMN, I do NOT understand her. Also the fact that every season and movie has a different interpretation of her personality doesn't really help. A side note, I personally headcanon her as aro, and tried to write her as such; but as I don't know enough about aromanticism yet, I'm not making this explicit. You can interpret her this way if you want, or not. Your call!
> 
> Also, unrelated to the fic, but this song makes me thing of Fujiko and Goemon and it's adorable so I wanted to share it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W2xE3UHDkdo
> 
> There are no content warnings in this chapter (at least none that I can think of right off the bat, but please tell me if you want me to check for something specific).
> 
> Enjoyyyyyy!

It had been a while since Fujiko had seen Goemon laugh. In fact, it had been a while since she had seen Goemon at all.

They were sitting at a small private table in a three stars restaurant in Kyoto, in front of a dinner of fusion Japanese cuisine, and a well-started bottle of sake. The reason Goemon was laughing right now, was because Fujiko had reminded him of the face their buyer had pulled earlier during the sale she had organized. That had truly been one of the highlights of the day. That, and the ten million she had gotten for that ugly excuse of a painting. Modern art was truly a blessing for her wallet.

“I have seen grown men cower in fear in front of my sword,” Goemon said, “but never one look so comically terrified.”

“Maybe he was afraid of meeting someone again in heaven…” Fujiko wondered.

“If I had killed him, he would not have ended up in heaven.”

The lady thief couldn’t quite argue with that. All the men she dealt with, be it clients or victims, had a few skeletons in the closet, and this one probably had enough to fill a graveyard. Hence why she had asked Goemon to accompany her. She may be perfectly capable of defending herself, but a one-metre-eighty samurai armed with a legendary sword usually dissuaded anyone from picking a fight with her.

“But you wouldn’t have had any reason to kill him,” Fujiko replied. “He wasn’t going to try anything serious. I know his kind: he intimidates you, tries to turn the deal to his advantage and scam you, but as long as he’s in the room, he doesn’t want to see any blood spilled. And he still needed me to get the painting.”

“Scam you?” Goemon pointed out. “Wasn’t it you who scammed him?”

Fujiko raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not. The _Twelve Etchings_ painting was the real thing, and I only tripled the price from what it was worth on the legal art market.”

Goemon shook his head.

“You cannot fool me, Fujiko-dono. Even a child could paint better than that.”

“That’s modern art for you, love. Throw a bucket at canvas and call it _Untitled number three_ , and suddenly you’re a millionaire.”

At least that was what a lot of people said. Fujiko knew there was more to it, and some modern art was actually what it claimed to be – art. But most of it was bullshit. Very expensive bullshit, with very rich people trying to get their manicured hands on it, and Fujiko was intending to milk it for all she could get. She couldn’t expect Goemon to even care about that kind of art, but that was not what she needed from him. And he had played his role to perfection.

“I still do not understand what Torajiro-san was attempting to accomplish by threatening you,” Goemon insisted. “That a man in his position would act with such carelessness is puzzling.”

“It wasn’t carelessness,” Fujiko replied. “He genuinely thought he could make me bend if he scared me. He probably thought you were here just for show and wouldn’t actually do anything.”

“Did he?”

Fujiko raised an eyebrow at Goemon.

“Did he what?”

“Scare you.”

“Haha! He’d need more than a few empty threats to scare me. Besides, why would I be scared with you by my side?”

A soft blush filled Goemon’s cheeks, making Fujiko smile. The samurai was so easy to fluster, a few nice words and he lost his composure. That was why she liked having him around. That, and the mixed feelings he had towards her. Goemon didn’t like to be manipulated, and he knew that Fujiko played him like a cheap shamisen, but he loved her too much to say no. Quite the opposite of Lupin, who actually enjoyed the backstabbing, and occasionally stabbed her back. Goemon was a loyal man, and he expected the same loyalty from the people he loved. And no matter how much he tried to be distant and controlled around Fujiko, by fear of being betrayed, he always ended up swept away in the flow of his feelings. Fujiko wasn’t sure if she found it cute, endearing, or sad.

“He was wrong,” Goemon said. “I was not there only for show.”

“That’s what bodyguards usually are for. Would you have really killed him?”

Goemon frowned.

“I thought that was a given. I was there to protect you, Fujiko-dono.”

Fujiko cocked her head to the side.

“See? That’s what I meant. I had nothing to fear.”

Goemon stayed silent for a moment, all his focus on picking up a smoked bluefin tuna sashimi with his designer chopsticks.

“Speaking of show,” he eventually said, “do you think I overdid it? Maybe cutting that decorative hannya mask was a bit much…”

“It was a bit much, but it was perfect!” Fujiko laughed. “That idiot’s not going to threaten a woman ever again. God, I wish I could have taken a picture of his face. And yours too. You were terrifying.”

Goemon chuckled too.

“Well, that was the objective…” he replied.

“Like a snarling tiger. For a second I thought you were going to throttle him.”

“I might have, if he kept talking to you that way.”

Fujiko shook her head and smiled.

“You’re too good to me, Goemon.”

The samurai gestured at the table, the five plates of expensive sushi and the glasses of sake.

“You pay me more than enough for that.”

“Oooh, come on!” Fujiko protested with a playful jab at her partner’s stomach. “Of all people, I really thought _you_ could be the only one who’s not motivated by money!”

“What can I say. Money is the only way nowadays to acquire a meal such as this one.”

“And there I thought honour had always been your prime motivation. I’m disappointed, Goemon!”

“I cannot pursue honour, _or_ protect you, if my stomach is empty!”

Fujiko burst into laughter at the sight of Goemon’s falsely offended expression. Her laughter was contagious, and he soon dropped the act and laughed heartily with her. The sake must have had something to do with it, Fujiko thought. Goemon wasn’t usually one for playful banter or jokes, besides the occasional jab, so it was nice to see him unwind a bit.

The conversation drifted off to where Fujiko had acquired the painting, then to what Goemon was planning to do with his share of the sale. It was already well into the evening when they finally got up to pay for the meal and left the restaurant, happily walking away into the night. The nightlife of Kyoto was a well animated one, and there were many night owls strolling along the neon-lit streets. Some people stared discreetly at the kimono-clad couple walking arm in arm, but Fujiko and Goemon were long past the point of caring what people thought of them.

They had almost reached Fujiko’s hotel when her mobile phone rang. It was the ringtone she had set for Lupin. They stopped in an alleyway between two shops, away from the street, and she picked up.

The thief’s voice was weary, bordering on panicked. He hid it well, but Fujiko had long since learned to read between the lines. His worry must have echoed on her face, because Goemon was frowning quizzically and urging her to turn on the speaker.

“It’s Jigen,” she eventually explained after Lupin hung up. “He got shot.”

The colours drained from Goemon’s face.

“What happened? Is he…”

“He’s fine. A heist in Morocco went south, and he was wounded. Lupin’s taking care of him. He wanted to warn us.”

Goemon clenched his fists and said nothing, but it was easy to guess what he was thinking: he should have been there to protect his friend, and none of this would have happened. But then Fujiko would have been alone, and Torajiro clearly hadn’t had friendly intentions towards her either.

Fujiko put a reassuring hand on Goemon’s shoulder.

“You don’t always have to protect everyone, you know.”

“Of course, I do. You are my partners and my friends.”

“And grown adults. Lupin and Jigen got themselves into this mess on their own, and they’ll deal with the fallout. You can’t be responsible for every stupid decision they make.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I suppose you are right.”

Goemon didn’t look very convinced, and Fujiko knew that he wasn’t.

“There’s nothing you can do now,” she concluded. “He’ll be fine.”

Of course, she didn’t know that. Lupin hadn’t been very precise on what injuries exactly Jigen had sustained, but it sounded quite bad. But there was no point in telling Goemon. Best case scenario, he’d feel terrible for the rest of the week, worst case he’d take his suitcase and fly all the way to Morocco to apologize for something that wasn’t his fault.

The rest of the walk back to the hotel was in silence. Goemon wasn’t one for light conversation and forced smiles. He did his best to look untouched by the news, but he wasn’t fooling Fujiko. There was a shadow over his face, one that she knew all too well.

Goemon still hadn’t said a word when they finally reached their room. Fujiko was starting to grow a bit worried – this was supposed to be a fun evening after a successful job, and until now Goemon had been enjoying himself. When they walked into their penthouse suit, she locked the door behind them and headed straight for the mini bar. Her partner was clearly in need of some alcohol.

The samurai was already sitting on the couch, legs crossed and eyes closed, when she came back. Fujiko held back a sigh. Locking himself up in meditation wasn’t the solution to every one of his problems. He opened his eyes when she sat next to him, seemingly a bit annoyed at the disturbance; but he made no sign of pushing her away, and made some space for her. She served two glasses of the fine champagne she had brought along, and handed one to Goemon. He took it, and they clinked their glasses together.

“To a successful sale, and to Jigen’s recovery,” Fujiko declared.

Goemon smiled and nodded.

“And to another precious day spent in your company.”

Fujiko chuckled, and leaned against him.

“My, you know how to talk to women. Lupin should take example on you.”

Goemon blushed a bit when she let her head down on his shoulder.

“His methods must work too, or you would not be with him.”

“Well, right now I’m with you.”

She pulled him into a kiss, noting with satisfaction the deep red that was invading his cheeks, and his smile against her lips. His long hair tickled her cheeks, and she almost wanted to bury her face in it; but she settled for toying with an unruly strand instead.

“I should bring you along on these jobs more often,” she mused.

“I am beginning to wonder whether you really need me as a bodyguard.”

“What, are you offended that I enjoy your company?”

He shifted uncomfortably, and took a sip of champagne to hide his embarrassment.

“Not in the least. I am flattered that you do. But we both know that you do not need me to protect you.”

“And yet you still insist to do so.”

Goemon tenderly took Fujiko’s hand in his own.

“Whether you need me or not, I made the vow to keep you all safe. This is what being part of this gang entails.”

It was a wonder to Fujiko how the others hadn’t realised what Goemon’s devotion truly meant. Or that Goemon himself hadn’t quite put his finger on it, either. Or was she over-analysing this? No, she corrected herself as she absentmindedly played with the hem of Goemon’s kimono. He truly loved her, for some obscure reason that she didn’t fully grasp; despite all the times she had betrayed him and his partners, put him in danger, or stolen his precious sword. She also wasn’t sure whether he knew that she loved him back, or _how_ she loved him back. And she wasn’t about to tell him.

Goemon had grown silent, and his eyes were once again lost somewhere far away. That grim look on his face was back, but there was something else in it now.

Fujiko sat upright and crossed her arms over his shoulder.

“Alright, tell me what it is.”

Goemon turned his head and looked quizzically at her.

“What is what?”

“What’s on your mind. You are clearly dwelling on something.”

He closed his eyes and took a sip from his glass.

“I do not wish to burden you with my problems, Fujiko-dono.”

Good lord, that man was as stubborn as a mule. Almost as bad as Lupin.

“Well, I’m asking you. I’ll decide for myself if it’s a burden or not. You can’t be efficient if you’re bothered by something, and I still need you.”

Goemon took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. Then he stayed silent for a long moment. Fujiko was used to it; when it came to important topics, Goemon didn’t talk until he was completely certain of what he wanted to say. And it wasn’t a surprise that he’d want to choose his words carefully around her.

“Earlier, when you told me that Jigen had gotten hurt, for a moment I feared he might… that he might have been killed. You know how much I care about him, and about Lupin. The thought of having lost him without being able to do anything… I do not know if I could have borne it. Or if I ever could, were it to really happen.”

Fujiko took a sip of her champagne and glanced at the samurai.

“That’s not all there is,” she replied.

Goemon frowned, but didn’t say anything.

“I know you, Goemon,” Fujiko insisted. “I know how much you want to protect them, and I know how you react when they get hurt. This, is something else. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what it is.”

“I… felt regret.”

There was a moment of silence, as Goemon stared down at his glass. Fujiko refrained from asking more; she knew Goemon would talk, eventually.

“In that moment,” he continued, “when I thought that Jigen might have died, I felt regret. That is an awful thing to live with, even for a second. It means not living fully, not doing what I ought to…”

To someone who lived for honour and would die for it as well, Fujiko could imagine how that would weigh. Regret meant a duty unfulfilled, and that in turn meant shame. A feeling that Goemon seemed to know all too well.

“Yet it was regret for something I have already decided I cannot tell him. Because _that_ would only lead to more regret.”

Fujiko rested her chin on her arms and looked at her partner. Goemon looked like he was being torn between two wrong decisions. He hated talking about his feelings, he always had; but Fujiko could see that he wanted to tell her. When he wasn’t as smooth as a river stone, Goemon wore his emotions on his sleeve, and Fujiko knew how to read him better than anyone else.

“And why would that lead to regret?” she pressed on.

Goemon’s eyes grew even sadder.

“He is in love with Lupin. He always has been. It is painfully obvious to everyone around him. Even to Lupin, I am certain. If Jigen could only tell him… Then maybe he would finally stop hurting. But telling Jigen about my own feelings towards him would only make things worse for him. And I would never want that.”

Fujiko let out a discreet sigh. She had seen that one coming a long way away. She should feel flattered that Goemon trusted her enough to tell her about the turmoil he was in; but all she felt was tired disappointment.

“Aren’t samurais supposed to always be honest?” she teased him.

“Samurais are supposed to do what is right. If Jigen were to directly ask me how I felt, I would not lie. But telling him myself… Nothing good would come out of that.”

“You sound so sure of that.”

“His heart already belongs to someone else. I love him just as much as he loves Lupin; and though it hurts to love him from afar, I have no right to burden him with the knowledge of my own feelings, when I know perfectly well that they are not requited. I am not so selfish as to believe myself entitled to his affection.”

Selfishness was at one extreme of the spectrum, Fujiko thought. Obliviousness was at the other.

“Tell me,” she asked with a lopsided smile, “what would you do, if you asked and he said yes?”

Goemon’s expression hardened.

“He would not. And even if he did… I would rather be alone than be a filler-in for someone who he cannot have.”

That was something Fujiko had a hard time understanding. To her, something small was better than nothing at all. But then, Goemon’s mind worked completely differently from hers – or from anyone else she knew. Maybe that was why they completed each other so well.

“Wouldn’t you rather be happy with him?”

“I am happy if he is. And he would not be happy with me.”

Fujiko stared at Goemon for a moment in disbelief. She knew he was a selfless idiot, but sometimes he surprised even her. Talk about painfully obvious…

“You know…” she started. She wasn’t completely certain how to bring the subject on the table; Goemon wasn’t usually very receptive to subtle nudges, but being straightforward just wasn’t her style. “You’re not exactly the best when it comes to noticing people’s feelings.”

Goemon sighed.

“I know. Emotions and social cues are a complicated matter. I do not understand how you do it.”

“Sure, being autistic doesn’t help,” Fujiko agreed with a shrug. “But like you said… They’re really painfully obvious. Even you have noticed Jigen’s feelings for Lupin. You’re just not looking in the right direction.”

Goemon stayed silent for a moment, just staring into his glass. Fujiko let him – he had a lot to think about, and it was about time he did.

He finished his champagne and carefully set the glass back on the table. There was a small smile on his face when he turned to Fujiko, but she could see it wasn’t a happy one. More a resigned one.

“You are right. I should talk to Jigen about it.”

Well. Thankfully, he had finally come to this conclusion without needing Fujiko to spell it out to him. Playing matchmakers could be fun, and watching the boys endlessly pine after each other was entertaining; but it was starting to become more frustrating than amusing.

“That’s a good idea,” she agreed as if she hadn’t been the one pushing him to have it.

“What about you?”

Fujiko stopped, her glass of champagne halfway to her lips.

“What do you mean?”

Goemon was staring at her with a strange intensity, like he was trying to read her soul in her eyes. To no avail.

“Are you not worried that Lupin may choose Jigen over you?”

She chuckled, and took a sip of her champagne.

“Not at all. Lupin’s heart is big enough for all of us. He has too much love to give, and he doesn’t like making choices.”

Goemon didn’t look convinced. He didn’t know the thief as well as Fujiko did, though. And in truth, it didn’t really matter if Goemon understood what she thought, or feared, or hoped. Jigen wasn’t a rival to her; more like a very competitive friend, who was sometimes annoying but posed interesting challenges. And who Lupin couldn’t live without.

She playfully poked Goemon’s side and smiled.

“Next time you see Jigen, talk with him. But in the meantime, stop dwelling on it.”

Goemon sighed, and leaned back in the couch.

“I suppose you are right. Lupin is taking care of him; he will be fine. He always is.”

For once, Fujiko thought, it was hard to tell what was going on in his head. Was he thinking about Jigen’s injury? Worrying that despite his brave words, the gunman wouldn’t make it? Dwelling on the fact that Lupin was by Jigen’s side and he wasn’t? Whatever it was, there was little chance of Goemon’s mind completely dropping the subject for the rest of the night. But that was a challenge she was ready to take on.

Fujiko scooted closer to the samurai, and her hand left his shoulder to slowly drag down across his exposed torso. Goemon tensed at first, but then he relaxed a little, much to Fujiko’s satisfaction.

“I know how to take your mind off it. Why don’t you just forget the boys and pick up where we left off?”

“Meaning?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, but Fujiko’s other hand on his leg was clear enough that even he would understand.

“You were supposed to spend the evening with me, not with them.”

“Because you paid me to play bodyguard,” he retorted, but there was an amused smile on his lips.

“And as we’ve already established, you _do_ enjoy my company,” Fujiko added.

Goemon’s cheeks, already flushed pink by the alcohol, were starting to redden again. He leaned down and slipped a hand on Fujiko’s nape, brushing away a few strands of hair. She smiled when he kissed her, a soft and restrained kiss that was badly hiding his hunger. She knew all too well that it wasn’t meant for her, even if Goemon himself wasn’t quite aware of it. But unlike him, she didn’t care who had feelings for whom. She would just take what she could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is chapter 5/5, but is NOT the end of this fanfic, these loveable dumbasses will return, as soon as the first chapter of Part 2 has been beta'd! Speaking of...
> 
> As always, huge thanks to my awesome beta reader J. ; and please bear in mind that I'm not a native English speaker, and some of my mistakes are cunning enough to sneak past his elf eyes.
> 
> Remember that us fic authors feed mostly on comments and readers' tears, please consider leaving some in the box below! You will receive all my love and gratitude, and also make my whole day ^^


	6. [Not a chapter] Part 2 is out!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, this quick note is just to inform people who subscribed to this fic that the next chapter is out! Part 2 is a separate fic of the same series, so it's not sending out a notification. 
> 
> Dealing with your feelings is difficult. Especially when you're a 40 year old assassin-turned-thief, and you're in love with your two business partners slash best friends, one of whom is straight and has a girlfriend, and the other is too busy with his samurai training to care about dating.  
> Little does Jigen know that both of his partners are trying to wingman him with the other. Meanwhile, Fujiko is facepalming in the background and hoping her boys would just take the damn hint.

..........


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